what comes of tomorrow
by MissingMommy
Summary: Life is a crazy ride and nothing, even tomorrow, is guaranteed. :: Chapter 28: "She should be used to this by now – him leaving without a goodbye – but she isn't.":: various pairings.
1. tomvoldemort

**A/n – I usually don't put these at the top, but this is important. This is going to be a collection of drabbles, one-shots and freeverses – basically wherever my muse and plot bunnies take me. Each chapter, as required by the Pairing Diversity Boot Camp Challenge, is a different pairing using a different prompt. All these pairings range from romantic to friendship to family and anywhere in between; again, it's wherever my muse takes me.**

**As I've challenged myself, these are characters I've never written before. I will add warnings to the top of each chapter, if necessary, along with the pairing and the prompt.**

_**These are written on borrowed faith!**_

**Pairing: Tom Riddle Jr/Voldemort – non-romantical **

**Prompt: forever**

Tonight is the night. Tom Riddle has been awaiting this day for weeks – since the day he murdered his father earlier that June, planning it precisely. Nothing would stand in his way. He stands on the middle of his father's grave, making the change here so that his father would recognize the sovereign power he is about to obtain. Because his father deserves to see what his son becomes, what the son he left achieves.

So he writes his name in the air with his wand, staring at the letters making up each word.

_Tom Marvolo Riddle._

These letters will no longer comprise his name. He is going to leave that identity behind him. Waving his wand, he rearranges the letters to form a new name, a new identity – one that will last forever.

_I am Lord Voldemort._

Tom's lips twitch slightly upwards.

"Lord Voldemort," he whispers, getting the feel of the foreign name on his lips.

It is going to be the most powerful, most feared name the Wizarding World has ever heard.

"Lord Voldemort," he repeats.

It's a name that feels powerful on his lips and Tom can't help but enjoy it. This name is going to make him a monarch that will last throughout the ages, never to be forgotten.

"Lord Voldemort," he says louder.

He will invoke fear with this name. This name has become his own, leaving the idea of Tom Riddle, half-blood orphan, behind.

Tom Marvolo Riddle has officially died and, from the ashes of his life, Lord Voldemort rises.

"I AM LORD VOLDEMORT," he shouts. After the echoes of his name pass, Lord Voldemort laughs manically. He is going to be fearsome and powerful like no other person has been before and his father is the first to recognize the threat as fire rains down from his wand over the grave.

Lord Voldemort walks out of the graveyard with a twisted grin and a wicked promise.

**A/n – Thanks a bunch to my beta, kci47, who helped me not only beta but with a few ideas on making it longer.**

_**Please, please don't favorite without reviewing!**_


	2. helenabaron

**Pairing: Helena Ravenclaw/Bloody Baron**

**Prompt used: "if you be the one to cut me, I will bleed forever"**

**Warnings: rather non-descriptive murder**

Helena raced past as many trees as she could, proceeding further into the forest that had recently become her home. From behind her, she could hear the steady approach of footsteps. It would not be much longer until the man chasing her would catch up to her; she knew this well.

The tree in front of her was her best option in hiding the diadem. Taking what little time she had, she shoved the diadem into the tree's stump before protecting it with magic.

"Helena," the man spoke as he walked cautiously up to her. "There is no need to run, m'dear. I just want to speak to you."

Backing up against the tree, Helena knew she had nowhere to run; she was trapped with no means of escape. "What do you want, Baron?" she questioned softly, not allowing the panic to lace her voice.

The Baron stopped a few steps away from her. "Your mother sent me to find you," he told her. "She is worried sick about you."

"You lie," she accused, unable to keep the bitter tone away. "My mother loathes me."

Helena flinched when the Baron's hand collided with the nearest tree. "I do not lie!" he growled. "Come home with me and you will see," he said in a softer tone, but Helena was not fooled.

She shook her black curls. "No, I do not wish to return with you," she replied. Turning her back to the Baron, she tried to walk away.

"You must come home with me," he said forcefully. "I will not take no for an answer."

She turned back to him, meeting his green eyes with her own gray. "Baron, why do you wish for me to return home?" she asked carefully. "For my mother's sake or is it because you wish to live your life with me?"

"It would be a lie if I would say it was only for your mother's sake," he responded. "But it is only because I love you, Helena."

Helena closed her eyes for half a second before reopening them. "But I do not love you, Baron," she whispered. "And I will never love you."

Before she could draw her wand, the Baron had pushed her against a tree with a knife against her throat. "If you be the one to cut me, I will bleed forever," Helena stated defiantly as it cut into her neck further.

The hand that was not holding the knife rose and softly caressed her cheek. "And why is that, m'dear?" he whispered into her ear.

"Because I would want you to always remember what you did to me," she murmured, carefully trying not to let the blade go deeper into her flesh.

"Say you love me, Helena," he demanded. When she silent, he pressed the knife harder. "Say it."

Helena met his eyes rebelliously. "I cannot because it would be a lie," she told him. She saw the flash of anger in his eyes before she felt the blade in her chest. Falling to the ground, she looked up in disbelief. "What did you do?" she questioned as her hands wrapped around the blade.

"You did not love me like I love you," the Baron replied. Upon seeing the blood staining Helena's hands, the Baron dropped to the ground next to her. Dislodging the knife from her chest, he pressed his hands against the wound. "Oh, Merlin, what have I done?"

The Baron watched as the last spark of life left Helena's body. He cradled his head in between his hands. "What have I done?" he asked himself again. Looking into her unseeing gray eyes, the Baron grabbed the knife from where it laid and plunged it through his own heart; the words, "I am sorry, m'dear," on his lips.

**A/n – Thanks a bunch to my beta kci47!**

_**Please, please don't favorite without reviewing**_**.**


	3. dolohovfabian

**Pairing: Dolohov/Fabian (non-romantical)**

**Prompt: serendipity**

**Warnings: rather non-explicit murder, torture **

Fabian Prewett knows the odds are against them as five hooded figures surround him and his brother, Gideon. And if they are going to die, which is more than likely, he knows that they are going to put up one hell of a fight first.

So he watches the figures carefully, trying to judge their first move. After several moments of stepping on toes and dancing around one another, the first curse is fired by the impatient Death Eaters and all hell breaks loose. Fabian is firing one hex after another, all the while blocking and dodging the enemies' curses.

A stunner hits one of the Death Eaters, sending him to the ground, and Fabian allows himself a small smirk. But the glory is short-lived as he watches as a green light head for Gideon. Gideon, however, notices the curse in time to shield himself and Fabian thanks Merlin that he did.

Fabian smiles as the Cruciatus curse barely misses the intended target. He would rather not perform any unforgivable curses, but it's a life and death situation; and he would like to think that he values his life more than the Death Eaters.

From beside him, Gideon cries out and Fabian realizes that their serendipity has run out. Gideon falls to the ground, wreathing in pain. Fabian fires several more curses, trying to protect Gideon's body. But it's still four against one and the odds still aren't in his favor.

He sees the green light heading for his brother and tries to block it, but his shield is too far away to be effective. "NOOO!" he screams at the light hits Gideon in the chest. Regardless of the fact that someone just took Gideon's life, Fabian knows he must continue to fight.

Without looking down, Fabian fires curse after curse, not pausing for a second. His stunner is wearing off the downed Death Eater, so he sends another to be sure they wouldn't get up. Before he can think about the curses he's firing, a green light shoots from his wand. The killing curse hits one of the Death Eaters in the stomach.

He would stop and feel horrified about _actually _murdering someone, but he doesn't have time. He has three other Death Eaters to fight.

Before he can comprehend what happened, Fabian feels his veins set afire and his bones trying to break. He knows what the curse it; he's felt the Cruciatus curse previously. But he isn't going to let the Death Eaters have the pleasure of hearing him cry out in pain. So he soundlessly falls to the ground, gasping for air.

He hears the sounds of footsteps and tries to focus on that instead of the pain. Refusing to look up, Fabian estimates that the figure is a few paces in front of him. "Dolohov, just kill him and let's go!" a voice says. The curse is lifted momentarily as Dolohov turns to face the other Death Eaters.

From above him, he hears, "The Dark Lord requested we kill them both. He didn't say I couldn't have fun while doing it." The words send a shiver down Fabian's spine. "And I want to see how much he –," Dolohov kicks Fabian in the ribs, "can stand of the Cruciatus curse before he begs for death."

"And if I don't?" Fabian demands, looking up at Dolohov defiantly.

"Oh you will." Dolohov's voice is full of promise and Fabian _isn't_ going to admit he's a little terrified. Turning his wand on Fabian, Dolohov mutters, "_Crucio_!"

Sweat forms across Fabian's brow as he grits his teeth, but he refuses to cry out. Instead, he tries to focus on something other than the pain rushing through his body. But he knows he will never be able to deny Dolohov forever. For now, though, he will think of Gideon, Molly and her children; he will think of the happier times while he still has his conscious.

"Please," Fabian finally begs hoarsely; his voice broken by his screams of pain. "Just kill me!"

Looking down into Fabian's blue eyes, Dolohov smiles wickedly. "You were, by far, the longest lasting," he informs the red-head. "Too bad I have orders to kill you."

"_Avada Kedavra_," are the last two words that Fabian hears.

**A/n – Well, that was fun.**

_**Please, please don't favorite without reviewing!**_


	4. fangsortinghat

**Pairing: Fang/Sorting Hat**

**Prompt: Fire**

**Warnings: Obvious freeverse and a romance between a dog and a hat**

You bark as LOUD as you can,

hoping that your master will eventually _hear_ you.

But with all the noise going on aro thecastle und,

you don't think he will.

**boom**crash_smash_

Everything is falling

d

o

w

n

aro you und,

as you race to find your master.

There are humans,

more humans than you've ever seen,

shooting these colorful jets _everywhere_.

You're not sure what they |a|r|e|

but you know you should avoid them.

At long last,

you've spotted your **master**

holding another human in his BIG arms.

Before you can dart to him,

a hat

f

a

l

l

s

from the sky and sets aflame on top

another human's head.

Instead of being burnt alive by the _flames_,

he pulls a **shiny** sword

out of it.

_(You're completely baffled by __**that**__. _

_Shouldn't humans, or anything really, die if set on fire?)_

;~;

Your master has rushed off to finish

battling along with the other humans.

But the hat still lies on the ground

_**forgotten**_

by everyone and still burning {silently}.

You take matters into your own |p|a|w|s|.

Darting forward,

you _lick_slobber**drool **on the hat

until all the flames are out

and no smoke

s

e

s

i

r

A small voice speaks

_("Thank you.")._

Looking around and you see nothing.

Looking **up** and your master isn't there.

Looking downand it's only

_you&thehat_.

_("You're welcome," you bark)_

;~;

Your master has arranged for you

to see that hat of _yours_

every once i awhile n.

So you raced to the Headmaster's office,

ecstatic that you get to see Hattie

– as you {so affectionately} call him now –

again

_(Even though he __**swears**__ his name is the Sorting Hat)._

Upon seeing him,

you _lick_slobber**drool** on him until

he laughs.

And that's when you know

everything is going to be

_okay._

**A/n – Umm, I would blame my muse if I were you. **

**This is a M&MWP, so give them a shout out if you use it. **

**Thanks a bunch to my beta, kci47, who helped me with some stylizing issues and spelling/grammar. **

_**Please, please don't favorite without reviewing!**_


	5. meropetom

**Pairing: Merope/Tom Riddle Sr**

**Prompt: besmirching**

**Warnings: Obvious freeverse, mentions of abuse and one cuss word**

Merope, _oh_ Merope,

where are you at?

Your father's looking for you,

and he's angry, _oh so_ angry

that you're **not** at home

_(like a woman should be)._

It's that **why** you left?

You just grew tired of his hands

aro yourthroat und

and the screams that {filled} the silence.

Or did you leave because you know

you'll **never** compare to Morfin –

your _perfect_ brother that could do no wrong

in your father's graygray eyes.

;~;

But he won't ever find you here,

with that Muggle your _perfect_ brother cursed.

And you don't care that you're

besmirching

the {good} family name that has been passed

d

o

w

n

through the ages.

You love **that** Muggle,

but not enough to not slip him

love potions every day.

And as you kiss him,

you know your father is right.

_(You're just a useless waste of a human being)_

When there's a child – your child –

growING in your stomach,

you decide enough is _enough_!

You stop slipping your (be)loved potions

and hope that he still **loves** you.

But he doesn't and he flees

despite your {desperate} attempts to keep him.

_(It's __**our**__ child; not just mine!)_

And you feel your heart

**break**_crack_shatter

when he leaves,

just like you knew he would.

;~;

The baby is born

_and_ it's boy.

As you look into the child's brownbrown eyes

that are **so much** like his father's,

you know the child's name:

Tom Marvolo.

Named after the two men that

_destroyed_**demolished**dismantled

your life.

And as you give him

p

u

you hope that the boy doesn't

turn out to be a bastard _like_ his namesakes.

**A/n – Well, I rather liked it. What about you?**

_**Please, please don't favorite without reviewing!**_


	6. eileentobias

**Pairing: Eileen Prince/Tobias Snape**

**Prompt: phlox**

**Warnings: non-descriptive abuse**

Eileen looks at herself in the mirror. Her entire body is shaking in fear of what happened, of what will happen next. Steadying her hands, she grabs ahold of her wand and points it at the rapidly discoloring skin on her cheek. As she heals the bruise forming on her pale skin, she wonders where things went wrong, because they obviously did.

She lets a lone tear streak down her face before breathing in and composing herself. Because if there's anything she knows how to do, it's how to keep her emotions completely controlled. Taking another glance into the mirror, she wipes away the tear that fell and leaves the comfort of her bathroom.

Sitting on their bed is Tobias. In his hands are dark purple phloxes and the words "I'm sorry" are on his lips.

Eileen lets a small smile grace her lips; but it doesn't reach her gray eyes, it never does anymore. He does this after every time he lays a hand on her – picks her flowers as if they'll make the bruises and the pain and the suffering acceptable again.

Even though it will never be alright, she can't bring herself to leave, to escape the pain and hurt, because she loves him. She loves him so much that it hurts her to even think about it. And at one point in time, he loved her too. She knows he did. But she's positive that he doesn't love her anymore. Because, if he loved her as much as she loved him, she wouldn't have to heal the bruises caused by his hand.

There's a small part of her that wishes that she was courageous enough to leave him, but she's too afraid of him to actually do it. So she takes the flowers from his hands and whispers "It's fine," even though it isn't. But she'll pretend that it is, just like every time before.

**A/n – thanks so much to kci47 for beta-ing this for me.**

_**Please, please don't favorite without reviewing!**_


	7. dobbywinky

**Pairing: Dobby/Winky**

**Prompt: oblivious**

**Warning: unrequited love between House Elves.**

Dobby looks at the elf in front of him, genuine concern written in his large green eyes. Her speech is slurred and she's gripping a bottle of Butterbeer in her small hand, oblivious to the world.

"Dobby is worried about Winky," he whispers to her. He's nice enough not to raise his voice because he knows that her head probably still hurts from the previous night.

Winky laughs bitterly and takes another swig of her Butterbeer. "Winky is fine," she tells him, half-heartedly. But she isn't. She's a bad elf. And bad elves get punished. It's no wonder that Master Crouch presented her with clothing, freeing her from servitude.

She allowed Master Crouch's son out of her sight. It was the only thing Master Crouch demanded of her and she failed. Obviously, she couldn't be trusted anymore. And that's why he let her go: she ruins everything she comes in contact with. But she loved working for Master Crouch. And, oh, how she wishes she could go back to serving him.

Dobby watches helplessly as Winky takes another gulp from her Butterbeer. He wants to comfort her. And he wants to tell her that her entire world hasn't ended, even if it seems that way, but Winky doesn't want his help. She doesn't want him to care because he's a disgrace to all House Elves. He's a disgrace because he's happy to be freed, to be allowed pay.

So he protects her on the nights that she's too drunk to sit on the chair. And after all his chores, he sits in the chair beside her, watching over her as she drinks away her sorrows. Sometimes, he wishes that there was something more he could do for her.

**A/n – well, that was interesting. Topic number 10: creature – House Elf.**

**A bunch of thanks to l0stinl0ve for beta-ing this for me so quickly!**


	8. cygnusdruella

**Pairing: Druella Rosier/Cygnus Black**

**Prompt: chameleon**

**Warnings: mentions of torture as discipline**

Eight year old Druella Rosier sits on the bench in the garden, her sky map in her hands. Her father is occupying the spot next her as he points out constellations for her to mark. She watches silently and obediently as her father points into the distance, almost out of her line of sight.

"That one there is Chamaeleon," he says in a low voice. Druella strains to hear him, but she knows better than to request for him to speak up. She can still feel the _Cruciatus_ from the previous time. "It was founded in the 16th century by some useless Muggles. It was in a group of twelve constellations found at the time. It has four main stars, with the brightest being Alpha Chamaeleontis."

So she leans in a little further as she draws Chamaeleon on her map, listening to her father rattle on about the constellation's history. But she never asks why she must learn this. She knows that answer.

Her betrothed is Cygnus Black and Blacks take pride in knowing the stars. And she must too. That's why she sits outside in the heat of the South Australian summer night, looking to the sky instead of enjoying the vacation with her brother.

She learns the stars and what they stand for. And sometimes, she finds herself looking to the stars for guidance. But of all the constellations she has learned, Chamaeleon is the one she likes the most.

It teaches her what she must do to be a perfect Pureblood. Just like Chamaeleon, she blends in with the background, changing her façade to suit the environment she is in. She is never but a perfect Pureblood in the eyes of the community, just the way she should be.

.

Years later when she marries Cygnus, she smiles a flawless smile that never reaches her blue eyes. She says her vows without stumbling or making a mistake, because that's what it is to be a Pureblood. She takes his last name even though she doesn't love him – and probably never will – because she's perfect.

And she never forgets the lesson she was taught by Chamaeleon – the small lizard constellation in the Southern sky. Because her whole life has been based off it; it has, somehow, become a part of her. When she thinks she has forgotten who she is, she looks at the star map she drew as a child and remembers that she is just like the Chamaeleon – forever changing and blending in.

**A/n – all references to Chamaeleon the constellation was found online. I'm terribly sorry if I got anything wrong. **

**Thanks a bunch to kci47 for beta-ing this for me!**


	9. florahestia

**Pairing: Hestia Carrow/Flora Carrow (non-romantical)**

**Prompt: dangerous**

**Warnings: mentions of prescription drug addiction and implied character death**

Flora stares at the pills in her hands. They're tempting her, pleading with her to just _escape_. She desperately wants to. She wants nothing more than to forget everything for a while or even just for a moment. Because this pain in her heart doesn't feel like it's going to disappear anytime soon. If anything, it's getting worse by the day.

If Hestia was here, she would tell Flora that it's ridiculous. That Flora can't actually escape life; escape the world with those colorful pills. But Hestia isn't here and Flora's beyond the point of caring.

Shoving the pills in her mouth, she swallows them down with some Firewhiskey. She lies back on her pillow, staring at the ceiling through blurry eyes. _(Wait, when did she start to cry?)_ And she waits for the pretty colored pills to hit her system.

When they do, she can feel her heart race with adrenaline and the pain slowly fade away. They slow down her mind. And, for once, she's thankful for it. She lets a smile grace her cracked lips and just rides out her high.

But it ends all too soon. That wonderful high that she enjoys because it allows her to escape the memories and the pain for a few minutes. Leaning over, she empties the remaining pills into her hands. She's never taken this much, but it doesn't worry her.

She _needs_ the high. Because she's absolutely nothing without her sister, her other half. And even though she knows it's very dangerous, she downs the pills with another swallow of Firewhiskey.

Maybe tonight she'll be with her sister again.

**A/n – written for the 10 drabbles, 10 topics challenge. Topic number 8: serious issue – drug addiction. **

**Thanks a bunch to l0stinl0ve for beta-ing this for me!**


	10. nicholasperenelle

**Pairing: Nicholas Flamel/Perenelle Flamel**

**Prompt: picture perfect**

"Happy birthday, my love," Nicholas says softly, his voice has long since lost its heavy French accent.

Laying on the bed, Perenelle barely opens her eyes. She smiles tiredly at Nicholas. "Thank you," she whispers.

He runs his hands through her white hair. He knows she's very weak, but he wants to make the most of the last birthday she'll probably have. "We're going to walk through Hatherleigh for a bit," he informs her, "before we have lunch. How does that sound?"

Perenelle meets Nicholas' eyes. "That sounds lovely."

Nicholas gives her a smile before heading towards the kitchen. He waves his wand, letting the breakfast he made for her float before him. He makes one last stop, grabbing a potion to give Perenelle the strength for a walk through Hatherleigh. Though he wishes he can do more than just give her a potion for strength, he knows he can't.

They eat together, talking quietly. She drinks the potion without hesitation. After breakfast, Nicholas puts his wand in his pocket and offers Perenelle his arm. "Are you ready?"

She smiles, but it's still strained. "Yes."

He places a light kiss on her cheek before leading her towards the town. Taking a left on High Street, they slowly make their way towards the park on Market Street. Along the way, the residents of Hatherleigh wave towards them and most even call out a greeting.

It takes a while, but they finally make it to the park. Sitting together, Nicholas kisses her hand. "I love you."

"I love you too," she replies.

If this is her last birthday, Perenelle wouldn't mind. Because everything Nicholas has done for her is picture perfect and she wouldn't have it any other way. So she leans into him and smiles.

**A/n – any information about Hatherleigh, Devon was found online. I just picked random streets there because, sadly, I don't live there. Written for the 10 drabbles, 10 topics. Topic number 7: event – a birthday.**


	11. albusgellert

**Pairing: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald **

**Prompt: Love hurts**

Albus doesn't want to face Gellert, to fight him once more. Not because their fight could kill other innocents, like the last one killed Ariana, but because he _knows_ Gellert knows who killed his sister. And he doesn't know if Albus could live with himself if he was the one who had done so.

He may have resented his sister and brother, for they were holding him back, but he would never kill either of them intentionally. Because he loved them, just like he loved Gellert. And he never wanted to have to choose between his siblings and Gellert, because he loved them all so fiercely, therefore the choice would be difficult. Then Ariana's death chose for him.

And it hurt; losing everyone he loved in a single night nearly killed him – Oh, the irony.

He had shamelessly let tears streak down his face as he turned to face his very dead sister. Gellert had left immediately, before Ariana's body even hit the floor. And Albus wanted to be angry at someone, at anyone, at himself; but he put his emotions down and tended to the damage his love had caused.

_(What's that saying, dear Albus? Oh, that's right – love kills.)_

And after all this time, he needs to face Gellert. He needs to save those innocent people that are just in the way of Gellert's plans. But he's still quite terrified that he won't be able to handle the truth of who actually murdered Ariana that night.

Even though he doesn't want to, Albus knows he has to. Seeking out Gellert, he makes the decision to fight him once more. On a snowy day in late 1945, Albus travels to Frankfurt, Germany where Gellert sits at the height of his power.

As Albus faces Gellert for the first time in over forty years, he takes in the changes. Gellert's blonde hair has long since faded to gray and he's thinner than as a youth, but he still wears his hair long and lets a crooked smile grace his face. And Albus feels his heart skip a beat.

He wasn't anticipating this reaction. Because he thought he had long ago replaced the love with anger and the devotion with hurt. But as the wound feels like it's reopening, he realizes he could never actually _stop_ loving Gellert. And that hurts. Because Gellert will never love him. He learned that the hard way.

_(But that's how the saying goes, isn't it, dear Albus? Love hurts.)_

"Albus," Gellert greets him, bringing Albus out of his painful thoughts. "It's been a while since we last saw each other."

He nearly smiles at Gellert's tactic, but he doesn't. Instead, he agrees. "It has."

Gellert raises one eyebrow. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"You know why I am here, Gellert," Albus replies, not allowing his emotions to lace his voice. Because he can't allow his feelings to guide his words. He can't afford to do that.

Waving his hand, Gellert dismisses the thought. "Those Muggles and Wizards were meaningless," he informs Albus. "I didn't need them in the grand scheme of things."

Albus narrows his eyes at Gellert. He feels anger bubbling to the surface and it takes a significant amount of will-power not to let it show. Gellert enjoys playing with emotions like love and anger, but Albus won't give him the chance.

"They were innocent people, Gellert."

He laughs. "There was a time where that didn't matter to you," Gellert points out. "Where you dreamed of a world like the one I've created."

"I've grown up since then," Albus says immediately.

"No, you are just a blind man, guided by fear," Gellert replies easily. "Fear of _losing._"

_(Oh, dear Albus, how wrong he is. You're not afraid of losing. You've already lost everything that mattered.)_

Albus gives him a small smile. "Sometimes, fear is the appropriate response." And Albus can see the anger flash in Gellert's gray eyes. It feels satisfying to make him angry.

Before Albus can say anything else, Gellert draws his wand. But it isn't _his_ wand. It's the wand they looked for all those years ago – the Elder wand. For a split second, Albus admires the wand. How could he not? It's one of the most powerful wands in existence. But then that awe is replaced by disgust, because looking for that wand ultimately led to his sister's death.

"I see you recognize the wand," Gellert says casually. He pretends to admire it himself. "I won possession over it years ago. Stunned the previous owner – Gregorovitch or something like that," he continues, wanting to prove his worth to Albus.

When Gellert turns his eyes back on his former friend, Albus wordlessly casts a stunner. And with that, the fight has begun. They dance around one another, dodging spells and hexes. Their fight attracts bystanders, and Albus wishes it wouldn't. He really doesn't want this fight to end in bloodshed, especially not innocent people's blood.

The sun starts to sink below the horizon, bathing the sky in beautiful colors; but the fading light urges the pair to finish the fight as quickly as possible, or they will be fighting in darkness. And while the darkness would provide advantages, the disadvantages outweigh them.

Even though it would end the fight more quickly, Albus isn't fighting to kill – because he still loves Gellert – but Gellert is. Gellert casts the Killing Curse and the Cruciatus Curse without blinking. But Albus can't do that to him as much as he would like to.

"What is it, Albus? You can't bring yourself to kill me?" Gellert taunts, trying to get a rise out of Albus. But Albus isn't going to respond. "Is it because you're still infatuated with me? Or perhaps it's because I know who killed Ariana that night, and some part of you wants to know the truth," he continues, knowing all the right buttons to hit to get a reaction.

That statement causes Albus to see red. He's never been this angry, where his entire vision is pure red, and a small part of him is terrified by his reaction to a simple statement.

He hears Gellert cry out in pain and, if he's being honest, he's not even sure what spell he just cast. But the pained cry clears his vision and he sees his former friend kneeling on the ground, trying to catch his breath. And he knows it's going to be his only chance to defeat Gellert, so Albus stuns him before tying his arms with ropes.

Albus sits on the ground next to Gellert, waiting for Aurors to cart him away to a prison, maybe Azkaban. He immediately dismisses that thought. No matter what Gellert does, Albus could never condemn him to Azkaban, because he loves Gellert too much. The stunner wears off moments before the Aurors arrive.

Before they can take Gellert into custody, Albus looks into Gellert's eyes. "Who killed Ariana?" he questions.

"You did."

At those words, he shrinks away from Gellert and his heart stops momentarily. He searches Gellert's eyes, looking for the truth. But Albus finds nothing to disprove Gellert's statement. He wants to believe Gellert is lying but he isn't so sure. And that hurts.

_(Oh, dear Albus, haven't you learned that he lies?)_

**A/n – Written for the Tim Burton comp as well. My quote was from the movie 9: **

**9: "You are just a blind man, guided by fear."**

**1: "Sometimes, fear is the appropriate response."**

**A million thanks to kci47 for beta-ing this for me!**

_**Please, please don't favorite without reviewing!**_


	12. fawkeshedwig

**Pairing: Fawkes/Hedwig**

**Prompt: luscious**

**Warning: Obvious freeverse and romance between a phoenix and an owl.**

He was young once,

flying f.r.e.e.l.y

through the wide open **skies**.

That was too long ago;

so long, in fact, he barely remembers it.

.

She is growING older

each day,

but she has a young soul

that he just _adores_.

.

His luscious, fiery feathers should

**burn**scorch_ignite_

her

but they don't.

There's not many that haven't been

hurt by him anymore.

_(He burns them all in the end)_

Though, there's some appeal in

**crimson** on _snow white_;

he can't deny it.

.

So he accompanies her on flights,

f.l.y.i.n.g through the night.

Being free like he once was.

_(Not that he hates serving Albus, of course)_

But he forgets how much he misses this,

the freedom of s.o.a.r.i.n.g. through the open air.

Where it's only him&her,

the only **two** that matter at the moment.

At the end of the flight,

they each return to their masters

_(because their loyalties will always remain with them);_

and he tries _not_ to think more her.

He would try not to think of

how she reminded him:

reminded him of his youth,

his _freedom_.

And somewhere along the way,

she taught him how to **love**.

.

He did **burn**scorch_ignite_ her

in the end.

_(But not in the way he thinks)_

Her loyalty will always remain with Harry,

like his will forevermore be with Albus,

but he did set **fire** to her heart.

She did love him with an undying flame,

until the very end.

.

He may not know when he will die for good,

but the **hold** she has over his heart is

e.v.e.r.l.a.s.t.i.n.g

**A/n – Umm, I seriously have no control over what my muse wants. **

**A million thanks to Someone aka Me, who not only beta'd this for me, but is **_**completely**_** awesome.**


	13. minervasybill

**Pairing: Minerva McGonagall/Sybill Trelawney (non-romantical)**

**Prompt: after the incident with the others was resolved, she felt much better (it doesn't appear in so many words; it's more of a theme than anything.)**

Minerva looks over the top of her reading glasses. "I'm glad you could come, Sybill," she says. Her voice commands authority and respect and her eyes never waver from the figure in front of her. "Take a seat, please," she adds, motioning for Sybill to take the seat across from her.

The other woman takes the seat, pushing her straw colored hair out of her face. Her murky green eyes look larger than Minerva has ever seen them before. But her clothes are still the same, which doesn't surprise Minerva. Most of the Wizarding World has been hard at work repairing the damage the Second War did to Hogwarts.

Finally, after three and a half years of reconstruction, Hogwarts is ready to reopen, to start teaching young witches and wizards again. And while Minerva would like to completely drop Divinations as a subject, it's unfair to the pupils do that. Minerva whole-heartedly believes that the students should have the ability to take whatever classes they wish.

So, even though they have had their difference in the past, Minerva is going to allow Sybill her teaching post.

"Divinations is in need of a teacher," Minerva tells her. "I would like you to fill the post, if you would take it."

A smile crosses Sybill's face immediately. But, after a couple of seconds, it fades as she remembers the Centaur that has been teaching with her for the past few years. "What about Firenze? Will he be teaching as well?"

Minerva shakes her head. "Firenze has been allowed back to his herd after the Battle. It will only be you teaching the students. The pay will be the same as it was before and you will still be allowed to take your previous residency."

Sybill nods eagerly. While she has no personal hatred of Firenze, she really disliked having to share her teaching post with the Centaur. But now that he would no longer be a problem for her teaching career, she feels much better about accepting the teaching post.

"I will take the job," Sybill announces.

But Minerva knew that she wouldn't have given up the teaching position, regardless of Firenze's presence, because Sybill loves teaching students. And Minerva can respect that. That's why she offered the job to Sybill in the first place.

Minerva sticks out her hand, and shakes Sybill's. "As always, the new year starts on September 1st, and I expect you in the Great Hall for the feasts," she informs Sybill. "This year is going to be a little different than others since it has been a while since Hogwarts has been open."

Sybill nods. "Thank you, Headmistress."

"You may go settle into your quarters," Minerva says, dismissing her. She watches as Sybill disappears from her office. Without looking backwards, she speaks softly. "Do you think I made the right choice, Albus?"

The room is silent for a few beats before the portrait of the former Headmaster says anything. "I know that you never seen the appeal in Divinations, but some students will." It's a diplomatic answer, but Minerva knows that's the only answer she will get from him. "But she is not a fraud."

Biting back a response, Minerva closes her eyes. "I hope you are right, Albus."

**A/n – thanks to Budapest All Over Again for beta-ing this for me! **


	14. mrslovegoodxenophilius

**Pairing: Mrs. Lovegood/Xenophilius Lovegood**

**Prompt: to accomplish great things, we must not only act, but also dream**

Xenophilius Lovegood watches at a distance as his daughter pays close attention to what her mother is doing. Luna smiles widely as her mother performs complicated wand movements, attempting to get the new spell to work. As much as Xenophilius doesn't like that his wife allows Luna to watch, he can't force himself to send Luna away because that beautiful smile will disappear. And all he wants is for Luna to smile.

But at night, as his wife sleeps, Xenophilius lies awake. He lies awake worrying about everything; because, at a moment's notice, everything can come shattering down. And it's times like this, these sleepless nights, that Xenophilius realizes how much he really needs his wife. He can't raise a child, _his_ child, by himself.

He just can't make his wife quit making new spells. It's her passion; it's the one thing that she loves almost as much as she loves Luna and him. And, as much as he wants to, he can't take that happiness away from her. So he just lies awake, praying to Merlin that the next spell won't be the one to take her away from him, from Luna.

In the morning, she gives him a breathtaking smile and Xenophilius feels like everything is going to be alright, feels like she's not in constant danger. So he just buries himself in the _Quibbler_ and pretends that Luna watching her mother in danger doesn't bother him, even though it does. Because Luna's smiles are just as beautiful as her mother's. And he would give anything to see them smile.

That's what draws him to the doorway of their living room, watching his wife concentrate and Luna smile in pride at her mother. In this moment, his family is happy and he can't ask for more.

"Lunchtime," he says after his wife puts down her wand to jot notes.

Luna immediately hops down from her chair in the corner and runs out of the room. He stands there for a few moments watching his wife work. When they had first gotten together, she had told him to accomplish great things, individuals needed to not only act, but dream. And watching her work now, he knows that she has dreamed and now she is acting. Never for a moment does he doubt that she won't accomplish great things.

He leaves her writing furiously on a piece of parchment and heads to give Luna her lunch. Because if he's learned anything over the years, it's that dreaming and acting takes up a lot of his wife's time. She will come eat when she's ready. And he really wouldn't have it any other way.

**A/n – thanks to kci47 for beta-ing this!**


	15. rabastanrodolphus

**Pairing: Rabastan/Rodolphus**

**Prompt: salubrious**

**Warning: non-explicit torture and incestuous thoughts**

**For Gamma.**

/

He's six the first time he feels the Cruciatus curse. He is told that it's to make him stronger and that Purebloods never scream during it. But he does despite his best effort not to. The curse lifts as his father looks down at him, the disappointment written clearly on his face.

Panting, he tries to catch his breath. It takes several moments and as soon as he does, he feels the overwhelming pain again. He clamps down on his bottom lip, trying to hold in the scream that's threatening to break free. He tastes the metallic flavor of his own blood. But it still isn't enough to stop him from screaming himself hoarse. His father lifts the curse again in disgruntlement.

A thin layer of sweat forms on his eyebrows as he pants again. He wants the torture over, but he won't ask. He knows better. It'll just anger his father more and he doesn't want to do that. Instead, he waits for the next round of the Cruciatus curse because his father won't stop until he doesn't scream.

He doesn't get a warning as his father casts the curse again. Closing his eyes, he tries to think of something other than the pain. He bits his split lip and uses what strength is left to hold in the scream and the sob that he desperately wants to let out. Because if he does, his father will curse him again and he honestly doesn't want to disappoint his father.

Since he isn't crying out, his father continues to let the curse run its course. And it's getting harder not to give up and scream. It lasts for several more minutes before he finally breaks. A frown appears across his father's face, but he doesn't feel the Cruciatus curse again. "Get up to your room, boy. We'll continue this tomorrow," his father barks.

Not needing to be told twice, he scurries to his feet, ignoring the aches of his body. Before his father can decide to call him back, he's already up the stairs and closing his bedroom door. On his bed sits his brother, Rodolphus.

"Father won't let me give you anything for the pain," Rodolphus says as he enters his adjacent bathroom. Rodolphus leans against the door frame, watching as his brother looks for something to put on his split lip. Turning his brother to face him, Rodolphus takes the cream from his hands and starts to apply it to Rabastan's lip himself. "You did well, Rab."

Rabastan fights the urge to shake his head. "I screamed."

Moving back to inspect, Rodolphus tilts Rabastan's face to upward so he can look his younger brother in the eye. "But you didn't cry. You were strong."

"Father is very disappointed that I screamed," Rabastan informs him, staring into familiar blue-gray eyes.

Rodolphus is silent for a few moments. "When I was your age, I screamed too. We all do." And Rabastan knows that as much comfort as his brother will give him, but that simple proclamation makes him feel a little better about not being able to handle the pain. "You need to rest or tomorrow will be worse to handle."

With that, Rodolphus leaves his brother. Rabastan forces himself to climb into bed and sleep away the fatigue and pain he's feeling. He will do better tomorrow. He will make his father and brother proud.

.

He's eight when he learns about betrothals and exactly what's expected of him. His father has requested his presence in the Drawing Room. He knows it's going to be a serious conversation because that's where his father always teaches him about proper Pureblood society and his expected behavior.

Knocking lightly, Rabastan waits for his cue to enter. He pushes the door open when his father calls out, "Enter." Standing awkwardly at the doorway, he waits for the next order. "Close the door and take a seat, boy."

He does as he is ordered, as always. He never disobeys. "You're eight now and it's about time that you learn what is expected," his father starts. His voice is low, but authoritative and leaves no room for argument. His father moves to lean against the edge of the desk. "You will be married to a proper Pureblood girl when she turns seventeen. This is non-negotiable."

Rabastan nods. He had heard of being betrothed from Rodolphus. "Since you are old enough to understand this, you will be encouraged to interact with your betrothal," his father continues. By the way he says "encouraged", Rabastan knows that it isn't up for argument. He _will_ interact. "She is the girl you are marrying, regardless if you despise her."

Again, Rabastan nods. "And you will continue on with the family name." Rabastan doesn't exactly understand what the last statement means, but he doesn't disagree.

"This is what is expected of you and you will do it," his father finishes. "There will a gathering at the Blacks, and your betrothal will be there. You are required to dance with her at least once. Be a Pureblood gentleman to her." When Rabastan nods once more, his father waves his hand dismissively. "You may leave."

Rabastan doesn't hesitate as he exits the room.

.

He's nine when he realizes that he loves his brother in a different way than he loves his parents. He's lying on his bed, counting the cracks in the ceiling to pass the time. His stomach growls in hunger, but he's being punished and isn't allowed dinner. He'll be lucky to have breakfast in the morning.

There's a light knock on the door before it opens. Rabastan lets his gaze flicker to the door before looking back up at the ceiling. "Here," Rodolphus says, offering Rabastan the plate that he's holding in his hands.

But Rabastan shakes his head. "You will get in trouble with Father for giving me food," he argues dismissively.

Rodolphus, however, sits the plate on the edge of his bed and sits down next to Rabastan. Try as he might, Rabastan can't deny that the food smells delicious. "It's not your fault she's horrendous," Rodolphus replies. "I would've stepped on her feet too."

Rabastan laughs softly at that. Rodolphus has always been able to make him feel better without trying. He gives in and takes a bite out of the sandwich that Rodolphus brought. After he swallows, he whispers, "Thank you, Rod."

They let the silence hang in the air as Rodolphus watches to make sure Rabastan eats all of the food he brought. Rabastan downs the rest of the sandwich rather quickly, not realizing how hungry he really was.

Taking the plate from the end of the bed, Rodolphus walks quietly to the door. He nods before slipping out and leaving Rabastan to sleep. But Rabastan just stares at the ceiling again. Rodolphus is always risking himself to help Rabastan. It's the third time that month that he's slipped Rabastan something he shouldn't.

It's quite comforting to think that his brother would do that for him. And there's a small part of him that purposely gets into trouble so that Rodolphus can save him. He knows it's not salubrious, but he wants to feel cared for in a way that only Rodolphus can show him.

.

He's eleven when he feels the undeniable feeling of jealousy in the pit of his stomach as Rodolphus kisses Bellatrix. And as much as he wants to tear his eyes after from the pair, he can't. Because there's a part of him that wishes that he could be in the place of Bellatrix.

He knows he never can. So he diverts his eyes and forces back the tears that he desperately wants to cry. But Lestranges never cry and he won't. The pain of seeing Rodolphus kiss Bellatrix rushes through his body like the Cruciatus curse, but it feels a thousand times more painful. He can handle it though; he stronger than the pain.

And he's known for years that his want for his own brother is wrong and that he shouldn't let himself be deceived by glimmer of hope, because there isn't any. They're both promised to proper Pureblood girls. And even if he was free to be with anyone he wants, Rodolphus is still his brother and a male and it's still _wrong_.

As he whirls around to leave Rodolphus to his business, he can swear he feels eyes on his back. But he isn't going to turn around because there's nothing in this universe that can change the fact that he can't have Rodolphus. And he isn't going to pretend otherwise.

He walks away and finds some random student to hex because he's just hurt and angry, and he needs to let it out in the only way he knows how.

.

He's just shy of fifteen when he watches Rodolphus marry Bellatrix. He stands next to his brother in his best dress robes, wishing that he was anywhere other than here. Not because he doesn't want to support his brother, like Rodolphus has always supported him. But he knows that this moment was always coming. They were betrothed to one another since Bellatrix's birth.

He just didn't realize how much it would take _not_ to tell Rodolphus about his feelings and convince him not to go through with it. But they're proper Purebloods and Rabastan knows that Rodolphus will always choose marrying Bellatrix over being with him. Because that's the proper thing to do.

So Rabastan stays silent. And he pretends that he's happy that Rodolphus is finally making their family proud, even though he isn't. When Bellatrix is finally seen, Rabastan doesn't look at her. He studies Rodolphus face. There's a smile plastered on it, but it doesn't reach his eyes. And Rabastan doubts it ever will, because Rodolphus doesn't love Bellatrix. He may learn to, but he doesn't now, and that's almost enough to make Rabastan say something.

Bellatrix takes her place next to Rodolphus and it's the first time that Rabastan _actually_ looks at her. She's everything a proper Pureblood should be. And she's quite beautiful with her black locks and dark gray eyes. Rabastan should be happy that Rodolphus' soon-to-be wife is good for him. But he isn't.

And as much as he wants to, he doesn't allow himself to turn away when they kiss, forever promising themselves to one another. Because that would give away his secret and he doesn't want to do that. But watching them kiss makes his heart hurt and he's not sure if that pain will ever go away.

.

He's barely seventeen when he takes the mark because he wants to make Rodolphus proud of him. His brother is standing proudly next to Bellatrix, and Rabastan just focuses on Rodolphus. Before the Dark Lord places his wand on his pale forearm, he points his wand directly at Rabastan.

He recognizes the curse before he feels it. By now, he's used to the way that the curse feels inside his body. His father had always preferred the Cruciatus curse over the other forms of punishment. And now, he's rather glad his father taught him not to scream during it.

He grits his teeth and locks his knees in the standing position, refusing to give into the pain. It's his test to prove his loyalty to the Dark Lord and to make his brother proud. Focusing on Rodolphus instead of the pain lets him endure several minutes of the curse before his legs grow too weak to hold him up.

His knees hit the ground and he immediately pushes himself back up. A soft grunt passes his lips as he does so. But he's not going to let Rodolphus down; he just won't. He locks eyes with Rodolphus and it earns him a sharp nod. It's enough to give Rabastan the strength to endure the last few minutes of pain.

When the curse lifts, Rabastan takes in several deep breaths and attempts to slow his racing heartbeat. But his eyes never waver from Rodolphus'. Finally, the Dark Lord blocks his view of Rodolphus and holds out his hand.

Rabastan extends his tired arm without question. He watches silently as the Dark Lord puts his wand on his forearm and murmurs an incantation. For several moments, there is nothing but the sound of the Dark Lords words that sound through the room. The Dark Lord stands back and Rabastan admires the new addition to his pale forearm.

Kneeling before the Dark Lord, Rabastan adverts his eyes and whispers, "Thank you, my lord."

He feels a hand on his shoulder and automatically knows it's his brother's. He always knows when it's his brother touching him. Looking up, he meets familiar blue-gray eyes. Rodolphus jerks his head, motioning towards the door. Rabastan automatically knows that's he's allowed to leave.

Standing, he ignores the pain rushing through his body and exits the room as gracefully as he can. He waits patiently outside the door for his brother and sister-in-law to join him. Subconsciously, he rubs the inside of his forearm where the new tattoo rests. When the door opens again, he immediately stops.

Rodolphus smiles at Rabastan and claps him on the shoulder. Rabastan quickly hides the grimace from Rodolphus. "You did well, Rab."

He feels a swell of pride in his chest and a smile crosses his face.

.

He's eighteen when he tortures his first victim and he gets drunk off that power. It's not an assignment from the Dark Lord, though. He's just angry and takes it out on the person closest to himself. He turns his wand on his betrothal and utters the word that is burnt into his memory, "_Crucio._"

Her eyes widen with fear as she drops to the ground, screaming. And the sound just pleases him. He wants someone other than himself to feel pain, and he wants to be the one to cause it. He lifts the curse momentarily, allowing her to catch her breath.

"Please don't do this, Rabastan," she begs. But he ignores it.

He points his wand at her again. "_Crucio_." She screams again, and he lets a twisted smile cross his face. He wonders if his father felt this much pleasure when he was punishing Rabastan. Because the power he feels from hearing her scream in agony is overwhelmingly pleasurable.

She looks up at him with her dark brown eyes and he finally takes the curse off her. He wants to feel guilty as he notes her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks, but he doesn't. Turning on his heels, he leaves her lying on the floor. And he doesn't look back.

.

He's twenty when he finally learns why Purebloods should never marry for love. Because love makes does people do stupid things. He realizes this as he watches the Longbottoms desperately attempt to hold onto their sanity.

Pointing his wand at Frank, his puts all his anger behind his next word. "_Crucio_." It has taken two and a half hours before they were graced with the first screams of pain from either. And as Frank screams, Rabastan is reminded of his first victim. The screams are just as pleasurable as it was then.

Bellatrix laughs wickedly as Alice begs. Rabastan lifts the curse to see what Frank would do. Frank whispers words of encouragement to Alice, and Rabastan is sickened and slightly jealous. He wants that sort of love that Alice and Frank has, but he knows that he'll never get it. So he casts the Cruciatus curse again until Frank screams himself hoarse.

Rodolphus puts his hand on Rabastan's wand, effectively lowering it. "That's enough," he commands. Even though he doesn't want to stop, he pockets his wand. Rodolphus goes to speak again, but Alice mutters something unintelligible. "They don't even know who they are anymore."

Leaving the Longbottoms in their living room, completely unaware of who they are, Rabastan follows his brother out of their house.

.

He's twenty-three when he learns that Bellatrix is more in love with the Dark Lord than Rodolphus. Rodolphus doesn't tell him though. And he doesn't have to. Rabastan can hear murmurs coming from his and Bellatrix's cells. He should've known from the moment that he took the mark, but Rabastan never looks at Bellatrix.

He's always looking at Rodolphus. Maybe if he would've paid more attention to Bellatrix, he would've known about Bellatrix's love for the Dark Lord. But he didn't.

The realization hits Rabastan hard. He feels anger course through his body and he throws a punch at the wall. The pain that shoots through his hand is nothing compared to the hurt crushing his heart. He swears silently.

Before the pain subsides, he feels the air cool dramatically as a Dementor passes by. Suddenly, the pain in his hand becomes increases. But it's just his memories of his father using the Cruciatus curse on him and he knows it. He takes several deep breaths and tries to block out the pain. It isn't blocking out the pain in his heart though.

He sits down and buries his head in his hands. He really needs to get over his love for Rodolphus and he knows it. But it isn't as easy as it seems.

.

He's twenty-four when he finally stops waiting for Rodolphus to love him back because he knows it'll never happen. He sits in the corner of his cell, trying to get some rest. And for the first time since he was nine, he doesn't think about his brother's blue-gray eyes and messy black hair.

Because he knows that, even though Bellatrix doesn't love him, Rodolphus has learned to love Bellatrix. He can't change his brother's feelings and he won't try. After everything he's done for Rabastan over the years, Rodolphus deserves to be happy and Rabastan won't get in the way of that.

He'll be happy because Rodolphus is happy. And that'll be enough for him for the rest of his life. He will pretend that he doesn't love Rodolphus and everything will be alright.

/

A/n – for magic comp – _Crucio_: torture needs to be a main theme. Min words: 1,000.

For magic comp – Hate Potion: write a story about someone getting over their unrequited love. Min words: 3,000.

For creature comp – Niffler: write about someone being attracted to something/one. Min words: 500.


	16. alastorbarty

**Pairing: Alastor Moody/Barty Crouch Jr (non-romantical)**

**Prompt: indemnification**

Alastor wakes with a start. A buzzing sound is screeching throughout his room. Ever since Voldemort's downfall nearly fourteen years ago, he had indemnified his house to ensure that he was never surprised by his enemies. Now, he is thankful for his precaution.

Grabbing his wand off the side table, his magical eye scans the room. Nothing seems to be out of place, but he could never be too careful. He makes his way out of his room and checks each room as thoroughly and quickly as possible.

Once in the living room, he sees the spell before realizing the assailant – or assailants – is using a Disillusion charm. Quickly, he casts his shield and moves out of the way. The entire room is silent as the fight progresses. There is another assailant, just as Alastor suspected, judging by the second set of curses and hexes.

He may be outnumbered, but Alastor sure as hell isn't going down without a damn good fight. And he doesn't. He casts spells and curses quickly and effectively, but all of them seem to be missing his target by mere inches and, for the life of him, he can't figure out why. He finds that he's casting his shield a lot more than he usually does, and that has him slightly worried – not that he's going to admit that, of course.

Going around in circles, Alastor tries to make sure one of the two people never get behind him, that he always has one eye on both at all time. With his magical eye, it isn't hard to watch the one assailant; but he finds it difficult to keep track of the second assailant because he can't see them unless they are casting curses.

It takes nearly two hours for the second assailant to find his opening, when Alastor is forced to turn just slightly to attack the first person. Alastor's mind goes _completely_ blank when the curse hits him.

_Put your wand down_, says a little voice in the back of Alastor's head. The voice isn't his own and it sounds vaguely familiar, but he can't put his finger on it.

Alastor struggles with the command, trying to fight it. But the voice repeats its demands several more times, and Alastor finds that he can't exactly disobey it. He lets his wand drop to the ground, despite his best efforts not to.

"Wormtail, summon his eye and leg. I'll need it," someone says. The voice is the same as the one currently whispering in his mind. Standing in the middle of his living room, Alastor has no choice but to let the assailants have their way. Alastor feels his eye leaving the socket and his leg disappearing from under him. But he can't do a thing about it.

_Stay where you are,_ the voice demands as he falls to the floor.

Alastor looks up and is greeted by Barty Crouch Junior, who is looking towards his companion. And for half a second, he tries harder to escape the hold of the Imperius curse. But Barty recognizes this and the voice in his head speaks again.

_Don't move._

It's a simple enough request and Alastor finds himself following it without question. He wonders when Barty had become so talented at the Unforgivable curses.

"There's a trunk in here that you can store him in," his companion calls from Alastor's bedroom. Alastor knows exactly what trunk they are talking about; he would rather be killed than stored in a trunk.

Barty grins and licks his lips. "Bring it in here," he demands.

While he's talking, Alastor knows that Barty doesn't have as much control of him and tries to fight it again. He moves his arm, ever so slightly, but it's immediately forced back to the position it was in.

Stalking towards him, Barty grabs a fist full of Alastor's hair. He nods to himself and then just plucks a few strands at time. Alastor's mind races through all the possibilities that would include him being alive and strands of his hair. The conclusion he comes to, he doesn't like.

Polyjuice potion – which means that one of the two is planning on impersonating him. If he had to guess, it would be Barty because the other person didn't seem to have the ability to act to save his life. But Barty is a talented actor; Alastor had seen him act during his trial.

He feels himself being levitated into his trunk and then the lid is closed. And he's left in pitch darkness without a wand and no means of escaping. All Alastor knows is that he's screwed.

**A/n – Thanks so much to Budapest All Over for beta-ing this for me.**


	17. padmaparvati

**Pairing: Padma/Parvati (non-romantical)**

**Prompt: impetuous**

**Warning: run-on sentences are sometimes fun.**

_You've got a heart as loud as a lion. So why do you let your voice be tamed?_

It's always been the two of you for as long as you can remember – Padma&Parvati. Always glued at the hips. You would follow Parvati anywhere she wanted to go. You could never say no to her, especially when she would glare at you, cross her arms and claim, "You're no fun, Pad."

At that, you would give her a small smile and sigh and go wherever she wanted, even if you just wanted to read a book. Because you know that, no matter what, she would always need you and that made you feel complete.

And late at night, after you got done following her anywhere, the two of you would whisper about the adventure you would have at Hogwarts. "Of course you'll be a Gryffindor, Pad," she would declare when you doubted yourself. But that's Parvati – always believing in you when you didn't believe in yourself. You would smile at her and let yourself believe that you are really brave like she is.

But she was wrong. You aren't a Gryffindor. The Hat did have a hard time choosing your house, yes; but the house of red and gold was never an option for you. Your heart speaks of bravery but your actions speak of cowardice, and you wonder how your brain can be one thing while your heart is another because it doesn't make sense. But that's you – always the logical one.

Your new house is for people who enjoy books more than adventures and value brains over brawns. And a small part of you wishes that you were braver than you really are. Because going to sleep in a room full of new, unknown girls slightly terrifies you. You want to be in the bed beside your sister, whispering about how your adventures are only just beginning. But it feels like she's a million miles away, even if she's just in a different place in the castle.

That's how you learn to live without your other half constantly there for you. Your other half was ripped from you because you aren't impetuous like Parvati, and therefore you aren't a Gryffindor. You feel the green eyed monster coming out to play when you see her with Lavender. The two are stuck like glue, like you and her used to be. It should be you, not Lavender, you think bitterly.

You push down your raging jealousy and attempt to make friends with the other girls in your dorm. The other girls in your dorm are nice enough, but you find yourself comparing them to your sister. And you know you shouldn't because they're each their own person and are nothing like Parvati, yet you still do.

Despite your tendency to compare them to Parvati, you do find companionship in Mandy. She's a quieter, more studious version of your sister and she knows what it's like to be separated from a sibling that has been there from the beginning.

And that's when you see that green eyed monster in your sister for the first time and you can't help but think that it's nice to see her jealous over something you have. "You spend all your time with that girl!" she seems to screech at you during break, while she's trying to talk to you about boys and make-up and all the other things you don't _want_ to talk about.

You want to retort, "You're always with Lavender so why does it matter?" But you don't because your voice follows your head and your head is as cowardly as they come. Instead, you just stare at her with an eyebrow raised and say nothing besides a soft goodbye.

She apologizes the next day though and you accept it without question, because you're still sisters, and friends will never get in the way of that.

**A/n – thanks a million to kci47 for beta-ing this for me. It would suck otherwise. **


	18. blaisepansy

**Pairing: Blaise/Pansy **

**Prompt: retrospectively**

Blaise wakes up and flicks his wand towards the alarm clock before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. To his right, his wife is still asleep and shows no sign of waking up. He makes his way over to the in-suite bathroom to get ready for the day.

As he's going through the motions of his everyday routine, he realizes how much he despises it. It's tedious. It's repetitious. And he can't stand it. There's nothing more annoying than doing the same thing over and over and over again. He gets up, goes to work, comes home, drinks a few glasses and retires to an empty bed. Then he starts it all over again the next morning.

If it were up to him, his life would be _much_ different. He only works to get away from his wife as much as he can. It's not the first time that he wishes he hadn't married her, and he's sure it won't be the last.

Because he doesn't love her. And he can't even bring himself to try to. He only married her so that he could get his family fortune. His mother _had _to insist that she wouldn't give him the money unless he got married.

But he's picky, and no one was meeting his standards. So he settled, which he doesn't mind, because he's always settling for second best. Pansy was, and still is, his only way of obtaining the fortune that rightfully belongs to him.

He was a proper Pureblood gentleman about it, though. He courted her. He feigned interest. He pretended to care. And for once in his life, he feels guilty. He was, and still is, using her for his own agenda, and somewhere deep down, he knows it's wrong. Even Pansy, the domineer that she is, deserves better than that; he knows she does.

She doesn't know about his ulterior motives for marrying her, and if he leaves it alone, she won't ever know. Because he might not love her, but he has learned to care. And he can't bring himself to hurt her with this knowledge since she believes he does love her. He doesn't want to leave – because he'll lose his fortune – but he despises staying.

Maybe this is what he deserves. Maybe this is his punishment for abusing her trust, for using her like he's been doing. And some part of him truly believes that he earned this lifestyle. Because, retrospectively, karma has caught up to him, and he's getting what he's given. For once, though, he's not going to take it.

Exiting his bathroom, he quickly jots down a note. He gathers his things as quietly as possible. Before he leaves, he takes off his wedding band and places it on top of the note on what used to be his pillow. He spares her one last looks and turns on his heels, disappearing from his house and from her life.

He spends the first night on Draco's couch. When Draco asks about Blaise's reasoning, Blaise shakes his head and refuses to answer. Draco raises his eyebrow, but says nothing more on the subject. Instead, Draco leaves Blaise to his own devices.

When he closes his eyes, he sleeps fitfully. All he can dream of is an angry Pansy. And, God, he's seen her anger and he knows that he is in for it when she finally catches up with him. But he had to do it. He's tired of being unhappy and of living the way his mother wants him to. He wants to be free.

There's a figure looming above him when he wakes up. He doesn't even have to look up in order to know that Draco Floo'd Pansy. As much as he wishes that Draco wouldn't have, he doesn't exactly blame him for it. He sighs internally and braces himself for the curse that she's sure to fire at him.

She doesn't though. She waits for him to meet her eyes. And when he finally does, he sees the anger and rage that is dancing in her brown eyes. But her posture is the complete opposite. She's compressing her emotions so that all he can read off her body language is indifference.

"I've been seeing other blokes," she says calmly.

And that statement stings more than it should have; not that he's going to say that, of course. Because it means that she never completely cared about him, like he thought. That she played him as much as he played her and that makes him furious. He's not even sure if it's the truth or if she's just trying to get a rise out of him. So he keeps his emotions off his face. "Divorce me then."

She slips the rings off her finger and hands it to him. "I never loved you."

Before he can say anything, she's on her heels and out Draco's front door. He stares at her rings and, for the first time in a while, he feels completely free.

**A/n – this was also written for the magic comp – spells: **_**Colloportus**_**: write about a secret; min words: 750.**

**So many thanks to Pam (cherryredxx) for beta-ing this for me!**


	19. helgarowena

**Pairing: Rowena Ravenclaw/Helga Hufflepuff (non-romantical)**

**Prompt: quail**

Rowena watches from her bedroom window as a figure stalks away from the castle. Even from her vantage point of four stories high, she still knows it is him. Her heart aches at the mere thought of Salazar leaving Hogwarts and having no idea of when he will be back.

She doesn't want to see him leave, but she knows that she can't do anything to make him stay either. Her love for him will never be enough for him to overlook their disagreement, and his conflict with Godric. She can only wish it was.

A knock at her door brings Rowena out of her thoughts. Without turning around, she allows the person to enter.

"He is gone," Rowena whispers almost to herself. She whirls around, her eyes ablaze with anger. "He has no right to leave, especially over a fight with Godric. He must know that we will never always agree."

In front of her is standing Helga. Her red hair is pulled back in her signature up-do and she seems to quail before Rowena, as she's always done. But her crystal eyes hold nothing but pity. "It was his choice, Rowena. You know him. He is a proud man that believes things should always be his way, and Godric refused – we all refused. His pride made him leave, not you."

Rowena sighs and turns to look out over the grounds again. "That will always be his downfall," she replies. "He had the freedom to choose what students he wanted in his house. I do not understand why he must leave because Muggleborn students are allowed to learn how to control their magical abilities."

"I do not understand, either, and I doubt we ever will," Helga answers. She crosses the room and stands beside Rowena. Looking across the grounds to the lake, Helga smiles. "All we can do is learn how to make this school work without him. These students need to master their abilities and we must teach them how."

Rowena's dark eyes meet Helga's bright ones. A sad smile spreads across her face. "You are right, Helga. These students should not be punished because of one man's pride. It is not fair to them."

Helga turns towards the door. "We should go meet with Godric to discuss the new means of teaching," she says. She puts a hand on Rowena's arm and ushers her towards the door.

Without resisting, Rowena follows Helga out of her room and towards Godric's chambers. Rowena stops before entering the room. "Thank you, Helga. You have been a wonderful friend. I do not know what I would have done without you."

Smiling, Helga nods. Patting Rowena's arm comfortingly, she whispers, "You just have to have hope. Salazar may be a prideful man, but I know he cares about you, about all of us, about this school. We just have to hope that he will return soon."

"I hope he does," Rowena agrees.

Pushing the door to Godric's room open, Helga and Rowena enter to discuss the matters of running the school without their friend and colleague. It may not be easy, but they have to accept what has been handed to them and make the most of it.

**A/n – written for the stretch your limits comp where I had to write five hundred words about a Ravenclaw. Also written for the personal restriction comp where I had to write a founders piece.**

**A big thanks to Budapest All Over Again for beta-ing this for me!**


	20. aberforthariana

**Pairing: Aberforth/Ariana (non-romantical)**

**Prompt: glad rags**

Aberforth looks up at his mother. "Please, mother. Ariana's been really good. I just want to take her to feed the goats," he begs her.

"No, Aberforth. You never know when she will have an outburst. It's not safe to take her outside," she replies, without turning around to see him. Seven year old Ariana is sitting quietly in her chair, watching their mother and Aberforth argue.

"I won't let her of my sight. I won't even let go of her hand," Aberforth tries again. He's looking at her with bright, pleading eyes. He wants his little sister back to before the _incident_, because this new, quieter Ariana isn't the same. "Besides, she used to love to help me feed the goats."

He can see his mother tense at the statement. She turns around. "Alright, but don't let go of her hand and don't let her out of your sight. Do I make myself clear?"

He nods. "Yes mother." He turns towards his sister, who looking out with glassy eyes. "Would you like to feed the goats with me?"

It's Ariana's turn to nod. He offers her his hand, and when she takes it, they're out the door to feed the goats.

.

He walks into the kitchen to find his mother kneeling before eight year old Ariana, holding a spoon out. "Please, Ariana. Please take a bite," he hears her plead. But Ariana turns her head as the spoon gets closer to her mouth. His mother sighs, and Aberforth can tell she's frustrated.

Ariana notices he's in the room and turns her attention on him.

"Here, mother," he says, holding out his hand. "Let me try." Wordlessly, his mother hands him the spoon and Aberforth takes her place. Ariana watches his movements carefully as he scoops another spoonful and eats it. "This is yummy, Ariana. Would you like some?"

Her gaze flickers between Aberforth and the food. And when she makes no movements, Aberforth repeats the process, humming his approval. After the third time Aberforth questions her, her eyes stay on the food.

Aberforth takes that as her approval. "Open wide," he tells her. And she does as requested. He feeds her, carefully making sure he doesn't make a mess. "Didn't I tell you that it was good?"

Ariana swallows her bite and opens her mouth for more. When the bowl is empty, Aberforth puts it in the sink and offers Ariana his hand. "Why don't we go feed the goats?" And the smile that appears on Ariana's face is priceless.

.

Aberforth hears the undeniable sound of his sister's scream of annoyance. He immediately gets up from his bed and approaches his sister's bedroom. Pushing the door open, he peeks inside to see his mother attempting to calm Ariana down.

"It's time to go to sleep, Ariana. You can have a story read to you when you get up," his mother soothes, stroking her hair down.

Ariana grumbles in anger. All she really wants is another story to be read before she falls asleep. But their mother isn't going to allow it, because she's so exhausted. So Aberforth crosses the room in three strides and smiles at his sister. Once Ariana notices him her face lights up.

He puts a hand on his mother's shoulder, and holds the other on out for the book. "I'll read to her, mother. You should go get some rest," Aberforth says gently. Even at nearly eleven, he knows how much effort his mother puts into tending to Ariana.

But his mother shakes her head. "No, dear. Ariana really should be getting to sleep."

"It's one story, mother, and it'll make her happy," Aberforth argues. He loves to read to his sister because it does make her happy. And if anything, he wants his sister to be as happy as she can be, since it's in those moments that she is the sweetest and that the insanity caused isn't so noticeable.

His mother sighs, but gets up and lets Aberforth have her spot next to Ariana. "Don't stay up to late, Aberforth. You and your brother have to go to Diagon Alley tomorrow."

Aberforth just nods and flicks through the copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ until he comes across his favorite story. He settles Ariana against his chest so she can see the pictures as well and absently stroking her sunshine hair. He can feel her sigh in content as he starts.

"Once, there was the goat that always moaned and groaned and fussed about everything…"

She falls asleep not even midway through the story, as Aberforth thought. But he continues to read to her, even fast asleep, because he couldn't bring himself to stop. But as he finishes, he closes the book as quietly as possible and shifts Ariana off his chest. He blows out her candle and whispers, "Good night, Ariana."

.

Aberforth opens the door to their house for the first time in nearly a year. His first year at Hogwarts was wonderful, but Aberforth found that he missed his sister dearly. And sometimes, he found himself worrying about Ariana, because he's the only one that she really listens to.

Before he could get two steps in the house, his sister threw herself into Aberforth arms, crying softly. He pats her back with one hand and strokes her hair with the other, while whispering words of comfort in her ear. "It's alright, Ariana. Nothing's going to hurt you. I'm back now."

It takes a while, but Ariana's tears subside. She lets go of Aberforth, but she follows him as he takes his trunk into his room. He sits her on his bed so she can watch him unpack. And if he moves too far from her, she attempts to get closer to him.

Finally, after Aberforth is finished unpacking, he takes a seat next to Ariana. "Would you like me to tell you about Hogwarts?" he asks. She shakes her head and points towards the book he keeps on his bedside table. "You would rather a story from _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_?"

She nods, looking up at him with her dark blue eyes. He smiles at her and picks up the book. He flicks through until he finds her favorite story. She leans against his shoulder so that she can see that pictures, and listens as Aberforth reads her the story.

.

Coming home from second year isn't as bad as it was the first time. As he comes in the door, Ariana flings herself into his arms, but she isn't crying. Aberforth smiles and hugs Ariana. He can feel her sigh in content against him, and he's glad that he can make her happy.

She follows him into his room and sits on the bed, watching his every movement closely. She doesn't attempt to be glued to his side, but she doesn't want him out of her sight.

He unpacks as quickly as possible because he's missed Ariana. After he's done, he sits on his bed and gives her a questioning look. She points at the window and he knows that she wants to go outside. He shakes his head.

"You know mother doesn't allow you out in the daytime," he says firmly. When Ariana starts to pout, with her blue eyes pleading him, he smiles sadly. "I'll ask her to let me take you out tonight, though. I'll even let you pick some flowers for your room. How about that?"

She smiles in agreement.

Until the sky fades to dark blue, Ariana stays curled up against Aberforth as he tells her stories about Hogwarts. She taps him and points to the window again, and Aberforth smile. "You stay here and let me go talk to mother," he whispers. She nods. Without a second thought, he heads towards the living room where Albus is talking to their mother.

When Albus pauses, Aberforth takes the opportunity. "Mother, can I take Ariana into the garden?" he asks. "She's been dying to go all day."

His mother looks up at him, and suppresses a sigh. He knows that she doesn't want to let him, but Ariana's been cooped up in the house for quite some time. And for half a moment, Aberforth thinks that his mother will refuse him. But she nods. "Be careful, and don't let go of her hand."

"Thank you mother," he says, retreating to his bedroom. As he enters, he sees Ariana already sitting in the middle of the bed, waiting for him. He holds out his hand. "Let's go!"

She takes it without hesitation, and Aberforth leads her out to the garden. The moon illuminates the pathway and makes Ariana's pale skin look nearly transparent, and her once sunshine locks have become darker from lack of sunlight.

In these moments, though, as much as Aberforth feels terrible for Ariana having to be locked away inside, there's nothing that can compare to the smile that lights up her face. He leads her around the garden, keeping a firm grip on her hand. Occasionally, she would stop and stare at flowers and Aberforth would bend down and pick her a few.

Once he had a bunch in his hand, he guides them to her face, where she can smell them. He doesn't let her hold them, though. And when they get back inside, Aberforth places them in her vase and thinks that they really brighten up her room.

.

When he comes home at the end of his third year, the first thing he hears is a breaking sound. He rushes in to find Ariana curled up in the middle of the kitchen, tearing streaking down her face as she rocks back and forth. Around her, plates and cup and pots and pans are being thrown across the room by her magic.

His mother is crouched next to her, whispering in her ear, but it only causes Ariana to let out a screech of anger. And with that, another plate falls to the ground, shattering.

Aberforth avoids the flying dishes and sits next to her. He wraps his arms around her, and pulls her into him. She visibly stops shaking and slumps into Aberforth's arms. "Everything's alright, Ariana. You're safe," he repeats as he strokes her hair down, and rocks back and forth.

As she calms down, the dishes drop to the ground, but his mother quickly ensures that they don't break. Aberforth can feel his mother's stare on him, but chooses to ignore it. He continues to rock Ariana until her tears stops falling. He stands her up and urges her towards her bedroom.

Tucking her in, Aberforth sits next to her and tells her stories of his year. He feels her breathing even out and he blows out the candle lit in her bedroom. Closing the door, he heads to unpack for the summer.

.

At the end of his fourth year, he walks in the door. Ariana isn't in the living room to greet him, which disappoints Aberforth a little. He enters his bedroom and is surprised that Ariana isn't there either. He leaves his trunk and heads towards Ariana's bedroom.

Inside, Ariana is stationed at her desk, a quill in her hand. He approached her cautiously, knowing that she gets frightened easily. Leaning against the back of the chair, he peers over her shoulder. She appears to be attempting to draw, but he cannot tell what it is.

"That's great, Ariana," he says, despite that fact. She looks up at him with a smile across her face. Picking the parchment off the desk, she holds it out for him. "Is this for me?" he asks, pretending to admire the picture.

She nods.

"Thank you," he whispers sincerely. He may not know what it is, but his sister drew it and that's enough for him.

.

He never expected to have to bury his mother this soon. Fifteen is too young to lose both parents, he thinks. And while his mother was never the best, Ariana still needs somebody to look after her. But he pushes down his emotions and tends to Ariana, because she'll always need someone to help her.

He holds Ariana close to him and wipes her tears away. "It's okay, Ariana. I know you didn't mean to. It's not your fault," he murmurs comfortingly. She sobs a little bit harder, and all Aberforth can do is tell her meaningless words.

After a while, her tears subside, and Aberforth starts to help her get dressed. He pulls out her glad rags and helps her into them. He's never really attempted to dress Ariana before, since his mother always did, but now, he has to. Once she's dressed, he runs a brush through her tangled lock and fetches a ribbon to hold it out of her face.

Albus knocks on the door, and enters a few seconds later. "We need to go," he informs the pair.

Aberforth nods and offers Ariana his hand. When she takes it, they follow Albus out of the house and to the ceremony. He keeps Ariana close, trying to protect her from the view of Godric's Hallow. Once they reach the cemetery, Aberforth sits Ariana down and watches her throughout the entire thing.

Only after his mother is lowered in the ground does he lead Ariana toward the grave. "Throw your flowers down, so mother can have them," he instructs her softly.

She lets go off the phloxes in her hands and they fall to the ground. Without waiting for Albus, Aberforth takes Ariana home and undresses her, leaving her in her sleeping gown. He's in the middle of reading to her when he hears Albus get home, but he finishes the story before he goes to talk to his brother.

He shuts her door quietly. And he takes the seat opposite of Albus. "I want to take care of Ariana," he says.

But Albus shakes his head. "You're too young. You need to finish Hogwarts first. I'll take care of her until then."

"Like you know anything about taking care of Ariana. While mother and I were tending to her, you had your nose in a book. I know what she needs. You don't," Aberforth replies bitterly.

"You're finishing your schooling, Aberforth, and that's final," Albus orders.

For once, Aberforth doesn't argue because he knows it'll get him nowhere.

.

He's dressed in his glad rags again, holding flowers as they lower his sister into the ground. Tears streak down his face out of anger and sadness. This day shouldn't have come for several more years. His sister should be alive, smiling and feeding the goats with him. She shouldn't be in the ground already.

Albus stands next to him, guilt written in his eyes, but Aberforth isn't in the forgiving mood. "I'm sorry," Albus murmurs almost too quietly.

Wordlessly, Aberforth drops the flowers on her coffin and turns to leave. But Albus' pleading voice stops him for a brief moment.

"Please say something."

The anger he's been trying to overcome just swells inside him. He turns around, his eyes blazing. "You want me to say something? How about: I'll never forgive you for this."

Albus looks like he wants to say something, but Aberforth cuts him off. "It is your fault. If you would've let me take care of Ariana, she would be alive." At the mention of Ariana something just breaks inside Aberforth and he starts to yell at Albus, with tears streaking down his face. "This is all your fault! You were so selfish!"

Putting his hand of Aberforth's shoulder, Albus tries to comfort him. "I know. I'm sorry," he whispers.

But it does nothing but fuel Aberforth's anger. He balls his hands into fist and, without hesitation, punches Albus' in the face. Albus stumbles back, surprised by the force behind Aberforth's punch.

"I hate you," Aberforth growls. Wordlessly, he leaves Albus in the middle of the graveyard, holding his bloody nose.

.

**A/n – also written for Creatures of Hogwarts comp: Pygmy puff – write about a sibling relationship. **

**Beta'd by Lilybug134. Thanks so much, dear! **


	21. meganmichael

**Pairing: Megan Jones/Michael Corner**

**Prompt: scrutiny**

**Warning: non-descriptive torture**

A few things you'll need to know before reading this. Hestia Jones – the one that was on the Advance Guard in 1995 – is Megan's older sister by seven years. Hestia was killed in the Battle of Hogwarts in 1998. Michael and Cho had already broken up by the time this fic starts. Also, this isn't completely canon compliant.

.

**December 1997**

Michael summons all the courage he has left and leaves the safety of the D.A.'s safe room. Even though he had been tortured last time, there are still some first years being punished by the Carrows. He glances around to check which floor he's on before heading towards the lower levels.

The Carrows prefer to serve detention in the Dungeons, as it's less likely to have other students interrupt them. But it doesn't bother Michael. He just wants to get the students that were unfortunate enough to get detention out of the way. They're usually just first years, with the occasional second and third year, and they don't deserve to be punished.

He can handle himself though. And it's worth it if he saves the other students. He'll take the pain for them.

He spots the Carrows, scrutinizing the younger students under hard glares as they walk back and forth. The students shake in fear under their unforgiving stares. Every few steps, one of the Carrows would pause their pacing and trace the face of a student with their wand.

"You are pathetic excuses for Wizards," Alecto says as she does so. "With your impure blood. Such a disgrace." Without warning, the girl – a third year Gryffindor – falls to the ground, screaming in pain. "Maybe next time you will keep your mouth shut during Muggle Studies."

Michael doesn't think as he disarms her. He appears out from behind the wall he was behind. "Run!" he shouts to the six students. "Just get out of here! Go!" he yells again as the younger students are still frozen in their spots. But the third year Gryffindor girl stands and starts to usher the others out.

Alecto's brother turns around as Alecto searches for her wand. "Why you little –," he starts. But Michael silences any further words by casting a stunner towards Amycus, which he blocks easily. He knows it's a losing battle, but he's isn't going down without trying.

.

The Carrows chain him to the ceiling, with his feet off the floor. There's a twisted smile on Alecto face as she strokes his cheek with her wand. "He obviously didn't learn his lesson the last time he freed detention servers. What do you say, Amycus? Why don't we teach him another lesson?"

He knows exactly what they're going to do for him, but knowing and reacting is two completely different things. He bites the inside of his cheek as Amycus casts the Cruciatus curse on him. But it doesn't stop him from screaming out in agony. He doesn't want to because it'll only fuel their passion for it, but the pain is always just a little too much.

When they get tired of the Cruciatus curse, Amycus likes to hit and punch and kick. And when Amycus' fist collides with his already tender body, it sends waves over pain throughout. Without warning, Michael throws up his dinner because he's sick from the pain. But that only serves to make Amycus smirk.

Alecto puts a hand on her brother's arm and throws a look of pleasure at Michael. "I think he's learned his lesson. Haven't you, boy?" she asks in a sickly sweet tone. Her wand traces his cheek again, and he thinks she has an obsession with doing that.

"Go to hell," Michael replies, spitting out the blood accumulating in his mouth.

However, his answer just makes her smile again. "Let's leave him here to think it over." He watches through swollen eyes as Amycus and Alecto disappear out the door. He stretches to his toes, grunting in pain as he does, so that he can shift his body weigh from his shoulders and wrists.

"Do you need help?" a familiar voice asks.

Opening his eyes carefully, Michael sighs in relief at the sight of Neville and the new recruit. "That would fantastic, actually," he replies.

The new recruit – a seventh year Hufflepuff – pulls out her wand to cast _Alohomora._ The chains immediately open and Michael nearly collapses on the floor, if it isn't for Neville catching him. "Are you good to walk or do you need to be looked over now?" Neville questions again.

He pushes away from Neville's grasp and stands on shaking legs. "I'm good to walk. I'm nearly blind here, so I need you to lead me. But let's just get out of here before they decide to come back."

Neville nods and slings Michael's sore arm around his shoulder. Even though he wants to protest that he can still walk perfectly fine, Michael knows that this is the best way if they weren't going to get caught.

.

Neville sits Michael down on his bed in their safe haven. He sighs in relief and lays down. "Megan, here, is better at healing spells than I am, so I'm going to let her take care of you," Neville informs him before heading off in search of Ginny or Luna.

"You know that was very stupid of you," Megan says conversationally. "You should've known what they would do to you."

He stays silent for a while, pondering about her statements. Finally, he whispers, "I knew what they would do, but when I heard that girl scream, I knew I had to do _something_. I knew I had to get them out, to give the Carrows a different target."

Megan gives him a bright smile, and Michael realizes that there haven't been enough _real_ smiles lately and he kind of likes the way she smiles. "I said it was stupid. I didn't say that it wasn't the right thing to do. I tried to attack the Carrows when Neville and I found you, but Neville wouldn't let me."

"That's the quickest way to get on their hit-list," Michael says. Then he sits up, despite her protests and looks her in the eyes. "Besides, I could handle what they gave me. There's no need to get involved with something I caused. I was the one that intervened with that detention even though Neville told me not to."

Before she can speak, he continues on. "It was stupid and reckless of me to do that. And nobody else needed to get hurt because of something I thoughtlessly did." He gives her a small smile. "But thanks anyways. It's always the thought that counts. Or that's what I was always told as a kid."

She nods. "Well, you're not too bad. The cut on your side is most likely going to scar. I tried to heal it, but it's just not something I'm familiar with. But I managed to heal everything else."

"Thanks," he says gratefully. "Don't worry about the scar. I know you're no Madam Pomfrey."

Standing, Megan brushes her hands on a towel she's conjured. "I'll bring you a pain potion, and you'll need to get some sleep."

He watches her as she heads toward their supply closet. He's had some classes with her in the past, but she's always been a rather quiet girl, mostly only talking with other girls from her House. It's strange to see her in the D.A., where there's no possibility of being reserved. It's all or nothing. But he kind of likes the fact that she is helping them.

.

**May 1998**

As he's fighting the Death Eaters, Michael knows that everything could come crashing down at any moment. So he rushes through the crowd, throwing spells and curses and hexes at Death Eaters, helping protect the members of the D.A. When he comes across Terry Boot having a difficult time fighting a Death Eater, Michael fires a spell at him.

"Am I ever glad to see you," Terry says, in between spells.

Michael sends a stunner the same time Terry casts the full-body bind spell, and the Death Eater is unable to protect himself from both. "We should definitely tie him up. We don't need him coming back after us," Michael suggests.

Terry nods and casts the spell. The Death Eater becomes entangled in robe and Terry claps Michael on the back. "Thanks. I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold my own," he admits. As they move towards the Great Hall, Terry stops and backtracks. "Is that Megan?" he asks, pointing at the figure that's obviously outmatched.

But Michael knows Megan's dark brown hair almost anywhere. He charges down the hallway, trying to get there to help Megan. She's screaming in pain from a curse. When he's in range, he fires the first spell that comes to mind and crouches down to protect Megan.

Between Michael and Terry, the Death Eater falls rather quickly. Only then is anything said. "Thanks," Megan whispers, her voice rough from screaming.

Terry nods. "We better go see if we can help some of the others."

Offering her his hand, Michael doesn't ask if she's alright. Because he knows she isn't. He's providing as much comfort as he can in the moment. She takes his hand and he hauls her to her feet, disregarding the sounds of pain in the back of her throat. They need to continue to fight.

.

He's entranced by the way the entire room stops and watches Harry and Voldemort dance around each other. He holds tightly to Megan's hand because he knows that one way or another, this war ends tonight. And he can only hope that Harry wins because the other alternative would be a living nightmare.

When Voldemort falls, Michael can feel the entire mood of the battlefield shift. The happiness of winning washes over them in silence. And before Michael can think, he presses his lips to Megan's. Because he's been waiting to do that for months now.

However, their glory is short-lived. When they part, they are brought back into reality. He notices the utter destruction of the castle for the first time that night and the number of bodies scattered on the floor, bodies of people who gave their lives for fighting for a cause they believed in.

The realization washes over him like a waterfall. Silently, he spends the next few hours keeping track of the survivors and the causalities. But one name stands out: Hestia Jones. He remembers Megan telling stories about her late at night, when she was just as sleepless as he.

He tracks her down, near the D.A.'s safe haven. She's just sitting down, holding her head in her hands.

"Hey," Michael greets her. He takes the spot next to her. He pulls her towards him, trying his best to comfort her. But he doesn't want to push her to talk if she doesn't want to.

"I didn't know she was here. We couldn't exactly talk, with her being on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's list and the Carrows reading all incoming mail," she whispers without prompt. She pulls away and looks at him with glassy eyes. "How am I going to tell my parents?"

He shakes his head, unable to answer. "I don't know."

They sit in silence.

.

**September 1998**

Michael lets himself into Megan's flat when she doesn't answer his knocks. He knows she's home since she didn't go into work. She's been trying so hard to lead a normal life despite how the war changed her, so he finds it unusual for her to miss work.

"Megan," he calls out, his voice echoing in a silent flat.

He finds her curled up in her bed in an almost pitch black room. Sounds of sobs are all he can hear once he pushes the door open. And that breaks his heart.

"Go away," she demands, her voice low.

But Michael refuses. Instead, he enters her bedroom and sits next to her on the bed. He's not particularly good with crying girls, but he'll try his best for her. So he rubs circles on her back, in a hopefully comforting manner. After a while, Megan's sobs subside.

She sits up and faces him. Even in the dark, he can see her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. To him, she's never looked more beautiful. "Thank you," she murmurs, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

He nods. "That's what I'm here for," he says playfully, trying to change her mood. But when she doesn't smile, he knows that something's really bothering her. "What's wrong?"

"It's Hestia birthday," she whimpers. And a fresh round of tears starts.

He pulls her onto his lap and starts to rub circles again. "It's alright," he says, even though he doesn't believe it himself. Because he's trying to be comforting and the only way he knows how is by whispering lies.

.

**February 1999**

Michael comes home to a nearly empty flat. In his hands are a dozen roses and the smile slides off his face. Megan is sitting at the bar, fiddling with a key. Her dark brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail and her gray eyes refuse to meet his.

"What's going on?" he demands.

Megan looks at him apologetically. "This just isn't working."

Michael shakes his head. "Don't do this, Megan. We can work whatever isn't working out. I'll fix anything. I'd do anything," he begs. Before she can speak, he holds out the flowers in his hands. "I got you these. I thought we could go on a date."

"No, Michael. This isn't anything you can fix. This just isn't working anymore," she says firmer. She takes the roses out of his hand and tosses them on the counter. "I just can't do this anymore."

"But I love you."

She smiles sadly. "I love you too. It just isn't enough anymore. I'm sorry." Wordlessly, she brushes pass him and shuts the door.

He blinks a few times, waiting for her to come back and tell him she didn't mean it. But when she doesn't, he takes out his wand and burns the roses, before he finally breaks down in tears.

.

**June 2000**

He sits at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, eating his strawberry ice cream silently. He's been here for half an hour already, and he should've known that she wouldn't have shown. But there was a tiny part of his heart that really hoped she would.

As he goes to get up, he spots the familiar head of dark brown hair. "I'm sorry I'm late. A meeting ran over," Megan apologizes. "I hope you weren't waiting too long."

Michael shakes his head, because honestly half an hour isn't _that_ long. "It's alright. So how are you?" he asks, since it's only polite.

"I'm good. It's just been a long day," she replies. She rests her head on her hand and peers at Michael. "Tell me how's work. You still work in Hogsmeade?"

He nods. "Yeah. I've moved there recently. It's easier than having to Apparate back and forth. Besides, that way, I'd get more hours."

"That's good, I guess," she replies. "I've been working on a few new spells. I haven't made as much progress as I'd like, but I'll get there."

He asks about her family and tells her how his mother is sick. Then the topic moves to the weather, and Michael can't help but laugh aloud. When she gives him a questioning look, he answers, "Look at us. We're talking about the weather. How ridiculous are we?"

She laughs. "Apparently very."

"Why did you really write to me? It wasn't just to catch up," Michael finally asks. He's been pondering it since he got her owl two days ago.

The smile fades from her face. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for how I ended it. I really didn't mean to hurt you. I was so scared about what we were becoming and I just wasn't ready. But if I could go back and change it, I would."

"I understand," he assures her. He sees doubt written on her face, so he adds. "I really do. And I forgave you a long time ago."

"I still love you," Megan whispers softly. "I never stopped."

Michael smiles sadly. "I love you too." He stands and meets her gray eyes. "But it just isn't enough." With that, he exits the Parlour and Apparates to his house.

He wants to go back to her, and tell her that he didn't mean it, that he still wants to be with her. But he doesn't and he won't. Because he may love her, but it's not enough. They're too broken to actually make the relationship work. And it took him months to figure that out.

**A/n – this was also written for the reverse perspective comp. I was given the song "Back to December" by Taylor Swift and I had to write about it from the guy's POV. **

**So many thanks to Budapest All Over Again for beta-ing this!**


	22. erniejustin

**Pairing: Ernie Macmillan/Justin Finch-Fletchley**

**Prompt: casualty**

.

It's well after midnight, with the crescent moon shining down on two boys, a blond and a brunet. They are standing face-to-face, so close together that their breaths are tickling exposed skin, but they feel like there's a gap too wide to cross.

"Promise me you'll come back, that you'll come back alive, Justin," the blond boy demands fiercely. His gray eyes flicker with fear, and his entire body shakes. He doesn't want to lose the one person that's most important to him. He doesn't think he'll be able to survive it.

The brunet, Justin, wants to laugh, but he doesn't. His breathe catches in his chest, and the words, "I promise, Ernie," slip out of his mouth before he can stop them. He knows he shouldn't promise his safety, especially when he's about to be running for his own life, but the way the Ernie is looking at him hurts him. And he wants to do anything to ease the pain for both of them.

Ernie knows Justin shouldn't have made the promise, but he can't help but feel relieved that he does.

"Don't do anything reckless or stupid," Justin whispers. "I mean it. Don't go getting yourself hurt." Despite his request, Justin knows that Ernie will never lie down and take the mistreatment of others, especially younger kids.

Nodding his head, Ernie silently promises to do just that.

Justin looks up and sighs. "I have to hide my family before I leave," he explains. When Ernie grimaces, Justin assures him quietly. "I'll be fine. Just worry about yourself."

There are still so many things that they want to say to each other, but the time doesn't feel right. Instead, Ernie gives Justin a half-hearted smile. "Don't worry about me. Just be safe." He pauses. "I'll see you later?" he questions, because saying goodbye makes Ernie believe that they'll never see each other again.

"Of course," Justin replies. He grins back at Ernie but it doesn't reach his blue eyes. He turns around and is about to walk away, when he whirls back around. Before Ernie can question him, Justin pressed his lips against Ernie's in a hard, bruising kiss. The kiss ends too quickly for either's pleasure. "A kiss for the road," he explains before stalking off.

.

Despite his promise to Justin, Ernie finds himself stumbling back to his common room after a long detention with the Carrows. Hannah is waiting in a chair for him to get back. Upon hearing the door open, Hannah pops out of her chair and rushes toward Ernie.

She tries to help him, but he waves her off. "I can get to my dorm," he tells her stubbornly. She nods and backs away, allowing him to slowly make his way toward his dorm. Her eyes are filled with compassion and pity, but Ernie doesn't want that. He was the one that made the choice, and he can live with the consequences of. "It was no worse than usual," he assures her.

"You're bleeding," she points out.

He lifts his tired arm and gently touches the cut on his forehead. He pulls his fingers back and examines them. Hannah is right; blood is staining his fingertips. "Amycus got a little excited. It's nothing to worry about."

Ernie collapses on the first bed that he comes to in his dorm. He's one of the only two Hufflepuff boys that came back to Hogwarts for their seventh year, so three other beds are empty and his bed is too far away.

Hannah clicks her tongue in disagreement, and sets about healing his wounds to the best of her abilities. She isn't Madam Pomfrey and isn't as good as Susan Bones, the unofficial Hufflepuff Healer, but Ernie doesn't really care.

When she's done, Ernie sighs in relief. His body is still tender and aches something fierce, but he's no longer bleeding and the damage won't be too bad tomorrow. He murmurs his thanks.

Putting her hands on her hips, Hannah gives him a look of disapproval. "You're playing with fire, Ernie. And when people do that, they get burned," she tells him as she moves to exit the door. However, she hesitates. "What would Justin think if he could see you when you walked in the common room?"

He growls. And she knows that she's hit a nerve. "Even though you may think differently, this has nothing to do with Justin absence. There are people, _children_ really, getting tortured because these twisted Death Eaters _get off on it_. I'm doing what's right, Hannah. Consequences be damned."

She sighs. "I hope you know what you're doing. The Carrows aren't people you want to play with." Without another word, she disappears through the dorms' door, leaving Ernie alone.

He goes to move and realizes that he had been sitting on Justin's bed. Before he can't decide against, he slips under the covers and blinks back the tears, because he refuses to cry.

.

The destruction of the castle is worse in the daylight, Ernie notes. He walks along the hallway, carefully avoiding the rubble. It's going to take a lot of help and time to fix the castle, to fix the world. It's a long road to recovery.

As he enters the remains of the Great Hall, Hannah pulls herself away from Neville and hugs him tightly. "I couldn't find you last night," she whispers. But Ernie can hear the underlying message – "I thought you had died."

She pulls him along to the table she and Neville are sitting at. Neville claps him on the back and smiles. "Good job, yesterday," he says.

"Do either of you know if Justin came back?" he asks.

Neville shakes his head apologetically, and Hannah just looks down. "No, haven't seen him. It's been a while since I heard about him on Potterwatch as well." Ernie knows what it means when Muggleborns and the likes aren't talked about on Potterwatch. "I'm sure he's fine," Neville assures him.

But Ernie looks down, disheartened, and silently finishes his breakfast.

.

Since Hogwarts was damaged, the students were allowed to go home, and were to return in September to complete the year that they had lost to the reign of the Carrows. So Ernie finds himself lying on his bed, gazing at the ceiling.

It's been two weeks since the battle and he still hasn't heard from Justin. Surely, he would've heard about the downfall of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. And Ernie finds himself worrying over him.

He's brought out of his thoughts by a tapping on his window. His heart starts to pound as he notices that an owl is waiting for him to take the letter. Unrolling it quickly, because he hopes it's from Justin, he scans the letter.

_Ernie,_

_ Justin's on the list of the dead. They found his body this morning. They believe it was Snatchers. I'm so sorry. If you need anything, owl me._

_Hannah_

The letter seems harsh, but Ernie knows there was no easy way to write it. He crumbles the letter in his hands and collapse on the floor. Holding his head in his hands, he sobs. He sobs until he has nothing left to cry about. Justin was supposed to come home, not be a casualty of war.

.

Ernie enters the graveyard where Justin's family put him to rest. It's his first time there as he didn't feel welcome. It was _his_ kind – Purebloods and Half-bloods – that caused Justin's untimely death. If it wasn't for power-craving wizards, Justin would still be alive. But it feels like an insult to his memory, to his love, if Ernie just didn't go.

So he navigates the headstones until he finds the recently covered grave. Falling to the ground, he lets tears run down his face, not caring who saw.

"You broke your promise," he says brokenly. "You were supposed to come home, come back to me."

The breeze picks up and he swears he hears "I'm sorry" in the wind.

**A/n – also written for the Creatures of Hogwarts comp: snake – write about the underdog.**

**So many thanks to Paula for beta-ing this for me! Love you, girl! **


	23. godricsalazar

**Pairing: Godric Gryffindor/Salazar Slytherin**

**Prompt: translucent**

**Warning: obvious freeverse**

He's _no_ good for you.

No, dear; not at all.

He's a whirlwind of passion, heat and fire.

And any closer, you might just

**Burn**_scorch_ignite yourself.

Every time you're aro him und,

you lose yourself and your **legendary** control.

And you _hate_ it.

You're never supposed to lose control.

A man – a friend, dear – should never be able to do that;

not to _you_, not **ever** .

But as his lips met yours, you forgot about supposed to.

All that matters is that passion has never tasted so good.

The next morning, you're tangled in sheets&lies,

unable to tell **one** from the _other_.

Whispers of love and promises come tum-b-ling

out of your mouth.

He knows they're lies.

You can see it in his greengreen eyes,

but it doesn't stop you from saying them.

.

You're too close, my dear.

Far tooclose to him.

He's **burning**_scorching_igniting you

and it consumes everything.

You need to get away, to save yourself,

because that's what you do

– you save yourself first and others last –

and not even _he_ can change your ways.

You whisper "I hate you" when you're

tootoo afraid and let the fire **burn**_scorch_ignite

because there's no other way.

.

His greengreen eyes flash with hurt

every time he sees you with her

– his friend, your friend –

For being so clever, she really isn't _smart_,

because she's oblivious to his glares of be tr ay al.

You aren't.

You see them and a tinytiny part of you hates yourself

for hurting him, betraying him with another friend.

It's never enough to make you stop, though.

You pretend that his glares aren't translucent.

But being with him is _wrong_,

and being with her isn't **right**.

And damn it all to hell because, for once,

you don't know what to do.

.

You let them believe that your fight with him

made you le av e.

That you couldn't swallow your _pride_

and your **legendary** control was nowhere to be found.

They were half-way right.

Your control was missing

and you just couldn't take the look in his greengreen eyes.

Because being with him is still wrong

and being with her still isn't **right**.

And damn it all to hell because you just

_can't_ take it any longer.


	24. orionwalburga

**Pairing: Orion/Walburga**

**Prompt: there is nothing like a good dose of another woman to make a man appreciate his wife**

"Orion," he hears his wife call out as she knocks on his study door. "The guests are starting to arrive, and Sirius refuses to come out of his room."

Orion internally sighs. Since his eldest son turned ten a few months ago, he has been causing Orion and Walburga nothing but misery. He downs the rest of his Firewhiskey before exiting his study. He gives his wife a very pointed look. "Go greet the guests. I will get Sirius."

He watches as his wife nods obediently, and heads down the stairs. As she disappears, Orion turns on his heels and marches toward his son's room. Without knocking, he throws the door open.

Sirius glances up at Orion before returning to the book he has in his hands. It only serves to anger Orion, but he doesn't show it. Instead, he gives Sirius a sharp look, which goes unnoticed by the boy. "If you are not down those stairs and greeting the guests within the next five minutes, there will be no supper for you," he declares, his voice low and demanding.

However, Sirius shrugs. "I guess I am not having dinner tonight."

Orion gives Sirius an icy look. "I mean it, boy." But when Sirius doesn't move from his position on his bed, Orion turns on his heels and walks out. When he gets down to the parlor, he puts back up his calm façade, and turns to greet the guests with his wife.

"I am glad you could make it, Nott," Orion greets. "I see you brought your wife." He turns toward Nott's wife, who is considerably younger than him, with sunshine hair and crystal eyes. Taking her hand in his, he presses his lips to it. "It is a pleasure."

She laughs lightly and gives him a smile. "Thank you, Orion," she tells him. "But the pleasure is all mine."

He internally cringes at her greeting, but doesn't say anything. "Why don't we proceed to the study, Nott? We have things to discuss," Orion holds his hand out, motioning for Nott to go ahead of him. However, Nott's wife takes ahold of his arm and starts to head off with him.

Walburga, sensing Orion's silent annoyance, intervenes. "Only the men go into the study," she informs Nott's wife, gesturing towards the stairs. "The ladies are in the drawing room." He's grateful for Walburga's interference, and gives her a slight night before continuing on to the study.

.

Once all the guests leave, Orion makes his way back to his private study, downing another glass of Firewhiskey. Nott's wife had been irritating Orion all night long with her lack of social edict. He rubs the skin in between his eyebrows, and sighs aloud.

A knock on his door brings him out of his thoughts. "The House Elves have been ordered not to let Sirius have food, and Regulus is in his room," she informs him. "If that is all, I'm going to retire to bed."

Orion nods. "You were proper tonight, Walburga, as always. Nott's wife should take lessons from you." It's the closest thing to a compliment that he'll ever give her.

She allows a small smirk grace her features, and Orion has to admit that she's beautiful with her high cheek bones and dark mane. Yes. He's rather glad he has Walburga as a wife, because she knows what it is to be a proper Pureblood.

**A/n – I seriously don't like this. But I don't think it's going to come out any other way. **


	25. alectoamycus

**Pairing: Alecto Carrow/Amycus Carrow**

**Prompt: smugness**

**Warnings: incest, torture, implied sex and it's **_**really**_** dark **

.

You watch as your sister drags her wand slowly down the cheek of a child. The child, no more than fifteen, cowers in front of her, flinching away. The girl is clearly frightened. And your sister turns to face you, a smirk of smugness on her face. But her eyes darken.

"What shall we do to this one?" she asks, circling the girl. The girl's Gryffindor tie hangs loosely around her neck and her shirt is soaked with sweat. "I'm ever so tired of just using the Cruciatus curse," she adds. She taps the girl's throat, causing her to shy away from the touch. Her eyes meet yours and she smiles again. "_Obscuro,_" she casts.

A blindfold appears across the girl's eyes. You watch as she frantically looks left and right, trying to figure out what is over her eyes. Your sister continues to circle her, close enough for the girl to feel her presence. "You know, when you lose one sense, your others amplify to compensate for the loss. You hear more; you taste more; but what I like most about this spell is it causes you to _feel_ more. It works just as well as a Supersensory Charm. I'm sure you've heard all about those."

As she says this, she presses her wand against the girl's neck. The girl flinches away, fighting against the metal of her restraints. Even from your spot, leaning against the wall, you can see the telltale sign of redness from where her wrists rub against them. It sends waves of excitement through your body. "Fight all you want," you sneer. "You aren't getting out. There's no one around to save you."

She fights harder for a moment, before she goes slack in the chains. Your sister shoots you a look and you nod. Your sister places her wand on the inside of the girl's wrist. Moments later, flames dance across the girl's flesh and her scream pierces the quiet dungeon. Her screams fuel you. You feel it rushing through your body, enhancing your want and desire. Your eyes darken as you watch the girl writhe, trying to get out of the chains.

After a moment, your sister casts, "_Augamenti._" Water rushes from her wand, drenching the girl's arm, exhausting the flames. The girl slumps in relief, her tears drying quickly and her breaths coming out in pants. A small part of you wants to congratulate the girl for attempting to be brave, but the other part– the bigger part – of you hates her Gryffindor qualities.

Before you can cast another curse on her, Alecto is already speaking. "I don't think she learned her lesson, Amycus. What do you think?" she asks. Her voice is soft, as if she doesn't want to talk too loudly in the girl's ear. She is right behind her now.

"Please. I've learned my lesson. I have," the girl begs.

You growl at her, slapping her hard with the back of your hand. "Apparently you haven't," you say.

More tears fall down the girl's bright red face, and this time your sister presses her wand to the inside of the left wrist. The girl looks like she wants to plead again, but instead she stays silent. It's the best decision she's made all night. Flames ignite once more, and the smell of burning flesh fills the stuffy air. She screams relentlessly.

A grin passes your face as you meet Alecto's eyes. They dance with hunger and desire and want, and you just want to get back to your room. Alecto must see something in your eyes that she likes because she casts "_Augamenti,_" quickly. She moves from the girl. "I hope you've learned your lesson," she says sweetly.

"Are you going to let me down?" the girl asks.

You move to slap her again, but Alecto places her hand on your wrist. "Don't think we don't already know that your friends are going to come rescue you," she sneers.

You barely get inside your room before she's pushing you roughly against the wall. Pain flares through your body and you let a groan of pleasure. Her lips attach to yours in a demanding kiss. All the need and want that has been consuming you since the dungeon comes to life, growing like a burning fire. You kiss her back just as harshly; all teeth and tongue.

The moment that your shirt comes over your head, her nails dig into your skin, leaving deep marks down your back. She bites into the flesh that connects your shoulder and neck, breaking flesh. She licks at the blood before kissing you again. The pain is exquisite, and you've never felt anything better.

But you have to hold on, because she's a hurricane. She builds you up quickly, and in a blink of an eye, she destroys you. It's a high unlike any other you've experienced. She knows exactly what to do to make it hurt the most, to make you feel the most.

And you really wouldn't have it any other way.

**A/n- so this is my headcanon for Alecto. She's dangerously creepy and gets off on the pain of others. **

**So many thanks to Allie for beta-ing this for me. **


	26. chomarietta

**Pairing: Cho/Marietta (non-romantical)**

**Prompt: never**

For the chopped comp where I had to use the prompts Ravenclaw, fireplace, anger and bad habits.

Word count: 599

.

You practically throw yourself in the armchair closest to the fireplace. You watch as Cho walks up the stairs in anger. Deep down in the pit of your heart, you know that Cho has every right to be angry at you. You did sell the D.A out, after all. But you know that Cho is giving you the silent treatment for the wrong reasons. Cho blames you for getting her boyfriend and his friends in trouble.

In all honesty, they shouldn't have made the illegal club. It was their fault, really. And Cho has the nerve to blame you, you fume. Your eyes never move from the fire as you start to pick at your nails out of anger. The more that you think about it, the angrier you become.

Cho doesn't understand. Her parents don't hold positions in the Ministry. And even if they did, Cho would foolishly go along with it because of her boyfriend. He's a terrible influence, but Cho refused to listen you.

You, on the other hand, aren't foolish. Professor Umbridge terrified you. Your mother could lose her job just because some stupid children decided to break the rules. You couldn't let your parents suffer because of it. You_ wouldn't_ let them.

You move from one nail to the next, picking it down until it hurts. How dare Cho blame you for something that she doesn't understand? You did the right thing. You protected your family. And what do you get for that? You get the word "sneak" plastered across your face in pimples. Now, your best friend won't ever talk to you, even though she doesn't know the entire story.

"You're going to make your fingers bleed if you don't stop," a voice comes from behind your armchair. You know the voice anywhere; it's Cho. You tear your eyes away from the fire, and glance down at your fingers. They are raw and red, and close to bleeding. You shrug and scratch at the skin on your wrist instead, returning your gaze back to the fire.

Cho takes the seat next to you, and you purposely ignore her. You can see her taking several deep breaths out the corner of your eye. Finally, she talks to you for the first the time in nearly a week. "I'm sorry," she whispers to you.

You snap your head quickly towards her. "You're sorry?" you demand, outraged. "You've ignored me for almost an entire week because of your boyfriend. I'm your best friend, Cho. You should've stood by me, regardless of your boyfriend. I was only doing what was right!"

She nods, her sleek black hair falling in her face. She tucks her hair behind her ear. "I know. That's why I'm sorry. You are my best friend. You were always there for me. I must be a terrible friend for not standing by you when you need it. I just thought you told because you were angry with me spending so much time with Harry, and not enough with you."

"She threatened to get my Mum fired if I didn't own up," you admit to her. "I had to tell. I couldn't let my Mum get sacked because of this." You finally meet her dark eyes. "You understand that right? It wasn't because I was jealous."

"Oh, Marietta," she says softly. She pulls you into a hug. "I would've done the same." As much as you want to believe her, you don't. Because she's foolish, and you are not. "Are we good?" Cho asks after several moments of silence.

Despite everything, you whisper, "Yeah, Cho. We're good."

**A/n – so many thanks to my beautiful wife, Kelly, for beta-ing this for me, even though she doesn't beta. If you didn't catch the bad habit, it was picking at her fingernails. My mom always told me that it was bad and I needed to stop. **


	27. hannahzacharias

**Pairing: Hannah Abbott/Zacharias Smith**

**Prompt:**

Written for the Chopped comp where I had to use the prompts: Hufflepuff, nightmares/dreams, insufferable, foist, and Born to Die by Lana Del Ray.

Word count:

.

_Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough  
I don't know why_

Born to Die; Lana Del Ray

Hannah wakes up gasping and panting. Sweat pours down her face as she catches her breath. She glances around her dorm, making sure she didn't startle any of her roommates. When she's satisfied that she didn't, she grabs her overdress and her wand before she makes her way out of the dorm.

She takes the steps down to the dimly lit common room. The clock on the wall says that it's well after two in the morning, and she just sighs. She takes the seat furthest from the dying fire. She pulls her knees up her chest, curling up in the corner of the couch. She closes her eyes and takes a few calming breaths, trying to block out the images.

But she quickly snaps her eyes open as the memories come back full force. She sees her mother's empty face and she just wants to forget it. She wants to sleep through the night with nightmares plaguing her.

The sound of footsteps brings Hannah out of her thoughts. Zacharias comes down the steps as quietly as he possibly can; his blond hair messy and his pajamas wrinkled. He looks around the common room, his eyes falling on Hannah. "Merlin, Hannah. You can give someone a heart attack hiding in the shadows," Zacharias says, his voice tired.

Hannah, however, doesn't reply to him. Instead, she wraps her overdress closer, shivering slightly. "What are you doing awake?" he asks, trying to get her to talk.

"Go away, Zacharias," she mutters. Zacharias, instead of leaving, takes the spot next to her, foisting his company on her, which annoys her greatly. "Oh, for the love of Merlin," she whispers. She looks up, meeting Zacharias' brown eyes. "Please, just leave me alone." She drops her gaze, and tries to curl up even further into herself.

Zacharias just sits quietly. It isn't long before Hannah shakes as sobs force their way through her body. And Zacharias waits until the tears subside. "Talking sometimes helps," he informs her softly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Hannah shakes her head, but words comes tumbling out of her mouth anyways. "I keep having nightmares about my Mum. It's every night. Even if I take a dreamless sleep potion, her face still haunts my sleep. And I don't know how to make it stop."

"Nightmares just happen, Hannah. They'll go away in time," Zacharias tells her. "Just try to remember the happy times with your mother."

Hannah nods. She yawns and stands up to stretch. "Thank you, Zacharias. But I think I'm going to go back to bed now," she says. Without another look back at the boy that she had once believed to be insufferable, she makes her way up the stairs to her dorm. She falls asleep that night, clinging to the memory of her mother before Hannah started Hogwarts. That night is the first in many that she didn't have nightmares.

.

Hannah doesn't sleep much anymore. She can't with the war raging not only outside Hogwarts walls, but within. The Carrows have taken over the school and the students are nearly helpless against them. Of course, Hannah knows that the group that had formed during Professor Umbridge's time has reformed.

It's a foolish notion, Hannah thinks. They are putting themselves in harm's way. But really causes her to lose sleep is Ernie. She knows that he has re-joined the DA, and that he's doing it because he doesn't know where Justin is. When he comes in the common room after a particularly bad detention, Hannah breaks.

She hates seeing her best friend so lost, but willing to lose everything because of her other one. She comes barreling down the stairs, angry and frustrated. Deep down, she knows that she'll never get Ernie to see eye to eye about his dangerous behavior.

"Whoa, there," someone says as she bumps into them. She looks up to see Zacharias. He's holding her shoulders to re-balance her. "What's the matter?" he asks as he lets go.

"Shove off, Zacharias," she growls. "I'm not in the mood." She attempts to move pass him, but he blocks her path. "Merlin, are you thick?"

Zacharias avoids the last statement. "What has your knickers in a knot?" he asks again.

Before she knows it, she's pacing back in forth before Zacharias, waving her arms dramatically as she tells him about Ernie and how she can't protect him. She tells him how she's worried about Justin, and how she hopes he's still alive because Ernie won't survive if Justin dies, and how she won't survive.

Zacharias just lets her rant. His brown eyes follow her as she paces. After she done, he watches all the fire just pour out of her. Her crystal orbs meet his. "I just want my two best friends back," she says in defeat.

"Sometimes it isn't that easy," Zacharias whispers. "Justin knows what he's doing, Hannah. You just worry about Ernie. Make sure he's safe, because he'll get seriously hurt if he keeps challenging the Carrows."

Her eyes narrow. "You don't think I know this. I just tried to talk to him. I even pulled the 'what do you think Justin will think about this' card, but he doesn't care. He says he'll risk his life if it means saving the younger kid," she says, her arm animate again. "And the funny thing is that I can't really blame him for standing up for those kids."

"But is he really helping? From where I'm standing, he's just making it worse on the other students, Hannah. The Carrows don't like being stood up to," Zacharias reminds her. "They're all making it worse on us."

Hannah just shakes her head. "They're torturing first years, Zacharias. Are we really supposed to step back and let that happen?"

Zacharias gives her a half-smile. "That's your answer."

"To?"

"Everything," Zacharias says. "You want to help, but you're afraid that your friends will be hurt because of it. But look around you; Justin is on the run for something he can't change, and Ernie is already rebelling against the Carrows. You have nothing to lose."

There's a long moment of silence before Hannah nods. "You're right. Thank you, Zacharias," she replies with a grin. She twirls on her heels and leaves the common room with a determination Zacharias hasn't seen in her in months.

.

Zacharias shouldn't even be here. He shouldn't be at the memorial service for those brave and courageous. It reminds him that he just wanted to get out, not to fight. He isn't a skilled duelist, and he probably couldn't hold his own in a fight. And he just wasn't going to die. He refused.

But he comes anyways – even if he is late – because he still has enough decency left to honor those stronger and braver than he is. He stands in the back, his eyes sweeping the crowd. He sees Potter and his side-kicks up front. Neville is next to him. Zacharias doesn't have to see his face to know it's mournful, but his posture speaks of pride. Neville should be prideful, given what he did.

Next to Neville is Hannah. Her blonde hair is messy, and her clothes are dirty and ripped. She's leaning into Ernie who has his arm wrapped around her comfortingly. Both of their bodies shake with sobs. He scans the crowd twice, looking for Justin, who he doesn't find.

When the memorial service is over, Zacharias slips through the crowd. He's nearly back to Hogwarts when he hears Ernie and Hannah. "I should've been there," Ernie growls in anger, but the sadness in his voice is evident.

"And I would've lost two friends instead of one," Hannah says.

Zacharias takes a step back and peaks around the corner to see Hannah and Ernie standing face to face, their cheeks are tear-stained. "I love him, Hannah. And I left him alone," Ernie retorts.

Hannah shakes. "And you don't think I loved him? Because I did. Maybe not in the way you did, but he was one of my best friends. But playing this blame game isn't going to bring him back, Ernie."

Ernie just closes his eyes. "I need sometime alone," he whispers.

Hannah, as much as she wants to protest, moves to hug him. "Don't do anything foolish. Please. We can get through this," she murmurs against his chest. She presses a kiss against his cheek. "We can get through this together. I promise."

She lets her hands drop and watches as Ernie walks away. When she turns to walk toward the lake, she sees Zacharias. "Now is really not a good time, Zacharias," she says.

"I just heard about Justin. I wanted to say I'm –,"

"Don't. Please don't say you're sorry. I lost one of my two best friends and I'm about to lose the other one. I don't want apologizes. I want this to be alright. I want this to be better, and apologizes won't make it happen," she says, cutting him off.

Zacharias just nods, not saying anything. And Hannah just breaks. Tears streak down her face as sobs rack her body. Zacharias pulls her into a hug, rubbing her back gently and comfortingly. There's nothing he can say to make this better, so he doesn't even try. Instead, he holds her until her sobs stop and her cheek dry. It's all he can offer her.


	28. kingsleyrosmerta

**Pairing: Kingsley/Rosmerta**

**Prompt: meticulously**

For the Ultimate Drabble comp – pairing: Kingsley/Rosmerta and the prompt owls.

For Kelly who loves this pairing, and I love her. Make sense?

Word count: 332

.

There's a tapping on the window that brings Rosmerta out of her sleep, but she continues to feign sleep anyways. She feels the bed move and hears the window opening. An owl screeches lowly and she nearly opens her eyes out of surprise. "Shh…," a deep voice soothes.

She doesn't have to look to know that it's his work pulling him away as always. He's never spent an entire night with her before, and so, she's not surprised when she hears the unmistakable sound of him gathering his things. He doesn't kiss her forehead, murmuring a faint goodbye against it, as any lover would do; instead, he just turns on his heels and leaves her alone.

It's only after she hears the loud pop, signaling his departure, does she open her eyes and roll onto her back. She should be used to this by now – him leaving without a goodbye – but she isn't. Every time it makes her heart hurt and angry tears sting the back of her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. She _won't_ cry over anyone.

Knowing getting back to sleep in an empty bed is impossible, she pushes herself up and makes her way down the stairs. Glancing around, she sees the pub is in the same state as when they moved upstairs a few hours ago. It's clean, but Rosmerta summons the cleaning supplies anyways. She starts sweeping before moving to mopping. Once that is done, she scrubs the counters. After that, she rearranges the bottles of alcohol on the shelf.

Even though it's meticulous, it helps keep her mind off him. When everything is done and she's sitting at the table closest to the door with a cup of tea in her hand, she promises herself that she will tell him _no_ next time.

But he comes walking through the door, a twinkle in his dark eyes and a small smile on his face, and Rosmerta can't remember why she's supposed to say no.


End file.
